Sleepy head,” he whispers, slipping an arm around my waist, “you snore.” “Do not,” I say in voice croaky from sleep. He nibbles my earlobe. “It’s cute.” “Middle-aged, overweight men snore. That’s not cute.”He strokes my hip. “Everything you do’s cute.” I love it when he talks like this. It means he has a softer, sweeter side. I hate it for the exact same reason.

-Ashley Lynn Willis

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