Burning Passion: Love Never Die

Seeking solace, Millie retreated into Marcus’ embrace once more. Her pain was undeniable, exacerbated by the fearsome visage of the crab. She felt as if it were attempting to devour her.

Suppressing his laughter, Marcus observed this unfamiliar vulnerability in Millie, marveling at her willingness to unveil this facet of herself. It bestowed him with a sense of contentment, the intimacy of the moment deepening their connection.

Although she claimed to be terrified, her expressive eyes told a different story-a tale of her desire to sever the crab’s claws and trample upon it. Suppressing his amusement, Marcus hesitated no longer. He dared not delay, given her obvious distress. After all, her vulnerability was a testament to her trust in him.

Turning on the tap in the yard, he filled the sink with water before gently guiding Millie inside.

“Sweetheart, what are you up to?” Millie’s confusion was apparent.

With unwavering patience, Marcus reassured her, “Hang on just a bit longer, my love. When it encounters water, the crab will release its grip.”

“Can this method truly bear fruit?” Millie’s voice quivered, a delicate tremor betraying her apprehension.

the compass guiding them to success. As Millie’s ankle surrendered to the water’s tender caress, the crab, like a

eyes flickered with astonishment, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within her gaze as she fixed it upon Marcus,

bore the crimson badge of its conquest, a prominent bloodstain, and an undeniable swell that set it apart

of contemplation. She knelt, her gaze a steadfast beam upon the crab, her hand reaching out

its mighty claws with swift

aside, her actions swift and decisive,

cry pierced the tranquility, stirring Marcus from his reverie. He

Millie persevered, “Darling, do you prefer crabs steamed or fried?” she inquired. Marcus, a silent contemplator, withheld

resting daintily upon her hands, cast

crab might curtail my own? Yet, it

crab’s grip had held her for what felt like an eternity. Even in its absence, the ache endured, a constant reminder of her desire

on its demise the stakes. Marcus, arching an eyebrow,