The next day, I felt like I was walking on cloud nine.
Every time I found myself daydreaming about my sexy AF hubby, I had to stop and do a reality check.
Making me snacks and cuddling me on the couch while binge watching my favorite Keanu Reeves series already catapulted Andres into quite a catch category.
But he didn’t stop there. Oh no.
The man with a thousand ripples and curves who seemed made of pure muscle carried me to bed after I fell asleep against his side. I hoped I didn’t snore. But back to the important bit.
He. Carried. Me.
Lifted my chunky dead-to-the-world ass off the sofa like I weighed nothing at all and brought me to bed. The only reason I knew it for a fact was because I woke up a little when he placed me on the mattress.
“How’d I get here? I’m too heavy to carry,” I mumbled, frowning, and trying to understand how I got there.
“Not for me. Your body is perfect. You were made for me, Angel,” he whispered, kissing my lips and tucking me in.