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except I’m finger-fucking my heart, not my vagina.
He’s probably the next Dexter. Yeah, that’s it. Only antisocial sociopaths would spit out my baked goods. Okay, let’s be real, if he ever invited me over, I’d still look at him and say, oh, I love what you’ve done with the place. The plastic sheeting really brings the room together. I have horrible taste in men.
He pulls out a chair and points at the kitchen table. “Get on. You eat your meals on the counter, I eat mine at the table.”
Fuck.
Fuck. I would let this girl crash my truck if that’s what she wanted. I’d toss her the keys without thinking twice.
That guy isn’t snorting lines, he’s snorting whole-ass paragraphs.
Our love is a fire, Freya. It’s strong and wild, and knows no bounds.”

