Page 113 of Sunset Catchers
“Tell me, Levi. All of the ways I’m worth it,” I whisper.
He does.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Sunset Hour
“I think it’s time we address something important.”
Levi stops kissing my neck, angling his head so we can hold eye contact, since I’m straddling his lap. We stop swinging.
“Which is…?”
“Your arm fetish,” I say.
His brows dip toward the middle of his face. I offer him some empathy, playing with the hair at his nape.
“I don’t —”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m not judging. I’m just very curious. Did you know from a young age you loved arms in an odd way?”
He lets out a long sigh against my breast bone.
“I don’t have an arm fetish, Winnie.”
“Well, you’re always staring at mine. Why is that, if not, for a weird arm fetish?”
“I thought you weren’t judging me?”
“Sorry! I take back the weird.”
“Okay.”
“No, not okay! I command you to tell me why you keep staring at my arms!”
“You sure you want to know?”
“Yes.”
“It might freak you out.”
I get up from the swing to stand before him, folding my arms around my torso; Levi tracks the move. See! Arm fetish, right there!
“It won’t, Levi. Tell me!”
“Okay. It’s this thing you do. It’s a whole process.”
I’m the one frowning now.
“A process?”
“Yes. When you’re at your most guarded, or feeling angry or anxious, you’ll fold your arms over your stomach.”
“I will?” He bobs his head.
