Page 32 of Hot Girls Date Demons

Maybe none of this is real.

Maybe I've finally snapped after one too many double shifts and years of putting everyone else before myself.

But right now—wrapped in Desmond's arms—I feel chosen.

For the first time in a very long time, I don't feel invisible.

Not too old.

Not too tired.

Not too curvy.

Not like the woman everyone overlooks while prettier women are noticed first.

Not like the nurse everyone depends on, but no one comes home to.

Just...

Loved.

Wanted.

Needed.

His kisses coast my ear, my neck, and my chin.

I turn my head and catch his lips, swallowing his groan.

And God.

That sound.

Everything about him affects me in ways I don't understand.

I've dated men.

I've kissed men.

But nobody has ever looked at me the way Desmond does.

Like he's grateful I exist.

Like finding me is some kind of miracle.

Somehow the clean scrubs I put on after my shower at the end of my shift feel itchy and tight.

My body is burning for him, begging for something I don’t quite understand.

But when I look into his glittering black eyes, I know that he does.

“What’s happening to me?” I ask, panting and whimpering at the ghost caresses he places on my body over my clothes.

“It is what happens when fated mates meet,” he murmurs, eyes blazing now. “It is your body telling you what your mind does not yet believe, Myrrin.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know, but I am asking you to believe in it. Believe in me, Myrrin.”