“You want me.” I spat the words like an accusation. He didn’t even blink. “I never pretended otherwise, sweetheart.” “But . . . you’re always nice to everyone but me.” The statement sounded about as juvenile as it felt. Even more so after everything he’d confessed. “You don’t like nice,” he said it with infuriating certainty. I know you, harpy. I raised my chin. “Perhaps I enjoy nice sometimes.”
