MEND ME IF YOU CAN.
“I don’t want to think about the past anymore. I just want this. You. Us.”
Their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the small space between them. Travian’s voice was rough, but filled with conviction. “Then let’s start here. Tonight. Right now.”
Soren’s chest ached, overflowing—love, grief, relief, desire, all tangling until it nearly crushed him. He tugged Travian closer, their bodies fitting the way only they could: scar to scar, wound to wound, heart to heart. The warmth of his skin seeped through every layer, chasing shadows from the corners of Soren’s soul.
Bab Populer