Hey, beloved! Tomorrow’s release is, A Love So Soft by Chelsea Maria! Here’s one final sneak peek before it goes live!
“Are you done pouting?”
He had some nerve to ask me that when he’s been the one giving me one sentence responses. Barely touches my booty when I rub up against him in the middle of the night. Only thing he does is fix my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
The powerful force called Roman made me hazy. I closed my eyes several times, and each whiff of him became stronger than the last. Why did he have to smell so good? So intoxicating?
Is that it? Were we too toxic for each other?
Nah. I refused to believe that.
We were the perfect mixture of sweet and spice.
A love so soft that it brought out our spice.
“He actually spoke more than two words. Pigs must be flying,” I sassed refusing to give in to his magnetic pull.
If I turned my head and locked eyes, I’d melt on the floor. Ridiculous how much he made me pine.
His burly chuckle bounced from wall to wall including the walls in my southern region. “Blame yourself.”
That’s the thing. I blamed myself all day and every day. My dreams all together had stopped, which was a first. Couldn’t tell you what I dreamed of because by morning they were a nonexistent memory. Hurting him caused a plethora of events that weren’t in my favor.
Standing from my stool, I finally got the courage to look him in the eye, and boy was he full of shit. He could get flip at the mouth all he wanted, but the eyes never lie. His eyes never lied about how he felt.
That fire burning behind his dark orbs flamed so hotly that it could burn down the entire house. He wanted me just as bad as I wanted him. Today, we were going to burn that ugly heffa named pride and take back what was ours.
“Have a seat.” I pointed to my stool. His bushy brow raised, and his lips pursed together. “Roman, please, have a seat.” This time I made sure to ask in that special voice that got me anything I wanted.
When he pushed off the doorframe, I did a little shimmy on the inside. I still had that special sauce to get his behind moving.
“Drop the pants please.” Oh, yes. I was serious. Not like it made a difference anyway. He wore nothing but grey sweatpants that hung low on his narrow hips. That profound V-cut made my mouth water.
Cool it, Peach. You’ll have enough time to drink from his hose and quench your thirst.
In two seconds flat he stood in front of me naked as the day he was born. Well, I’m sure that left leg hadn’t reached its full length back then, but I surely appreciated his season of puberty.
“You already know how I feel about being the only one in clothes, Georgia.” Why did he have to speak with such hostility? Was he really that mad at me?
Who cares? I had bigger and thicker problems to worry about.
As always, thanks for the continued support, and we hope you enjoy!
Love, the authors of BLP!