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I wonder what kind of dudes she writes about falling in love with. Not guys like me, that’s for sure. Probably sweet, spineless princes who say whatever she wants to hear. Not the kind of guy who will wrap his belt around her throat and fuck her so hard, her nails tear into the mattress.
The fear that only the people who have lived a life worth writing about can write a book worth reading.
“You told me to.” He’s already closed the distance between us, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love when you do as you’re told.”

