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... shoulder, the world snapped back into place with brutal clarity.
The door shut behind us, solid and final, the sound echoing through the house like punctuation. A period. An end to any illusion that I could still pretend this was nothing.
His hand was firm on the back of my thigh, fingers locked like he expected me to bolt. His steps were steady, unhurried, like he’d done this before. Like carrying me through a house was a routine he never wanted to derived from.
I sucke ...
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