“When you climbed into my bed in Reno, all I could think of was how I felt in London in that awful week when I’d had more sex than any teenaged boy could dream of. And how gutted I felt at the end of it. I didn’t want our first time to be like that for you. You were emotionally rocked in Reno, just like I was in London, and you needed me. But you didn’t need me that way. Someday . . . hopefully bloody soon—because I will combust if I ever have to spend a night like that again—you will want me because you love me, not because you’re lost, not because you’re desperate, not because you’re afraid.
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