Surrendering to the Billionaire
And I didn't help myself either, I constantly fed fears with stories of toxic, manipulative love, how it started always started with flowers and charm, and then, one day, the switch would flip.
I promised myself I would never experience that.
Romance belonged in stories. Fantasies not real life.
Still, I couldn’t deny the memory of his touch. How warm his hand had felt on the small of my back. How perfectly he held me. How one dance ignited sparks across my skin.
And my book? It wasn’t helping. The vivid steamy descriptions made me restless, And yet, part of me wasn’t ready to climb out of that mental gutter.
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