She smiled, and for once, it was not for him. It was for herself.
He had started by collecting a mouth. He ended by learning to love the woman it belonged to. sugar baby lips
“Because,” he said, touching her jaw, turning her face toward the light, “your lips are the most beautiful lie I’ve ever seen.” She smiled, and for once, it was not for him
That was the last time Leo collected anything. He ended by learning to love the woman it belonged to
The first time Leo noticed her lips, he was closing a deal that would net him three million dollars. He was in the back of his town car, scrolling through a contract on his tablet, when his driver, Marcus, hit the brakes a little too hard at a light in SoHo. Leo looked up, annoyed, and saw her.
She frowned. “A lie?”
He wanted to be angry. He wanted to cut her off, to call Marcus and have her things packed in an hour. But he looked at her mouth—honest now, unpainted, slightly chapped—and felt something he had not felt since he was a poor boy sleeping in a car: tenderness.