his chest and smooths a hand down my back. “You were so good for me, sweetheart,” my ax murderer whispers against my hair, just over the sound of the water. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ve got you.” Somehow, this is just as bad as everything else. My hands curl against his chest, eyes clenching shut again as I stand there against him, held up like a lover, and shudder with something that’s close enough to revulsion and fear that if it’s something else, I sure as hell can’t tell the difference. “I hate you,” I whisper against his tanned, perfect skin, breathing in open-mouthed pants. “I hate you
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