“Please,” I whisper it so quietly, begging him to stop questioning, to take what I’m offering him. He surely understands my reasons. I close my eyes when he finally leans up, pulls one end of the strap, and slowly tugs it off my wrist. The material slides coldly and makes me shiver. My eyes on what he’s doing, I exhale, appeased that we are still going ahead even if a part of me dies a little inside. Like an idiot because I started this.

I'm antsy, and I can’t stand it ...