“And who exactly would I be fucking?” Hugh demanded, chest heaving. “Would it be this version of my girlfriend? The one who rubs herself against other fellas when she’s not trying to tear my clothes off. Or would it be the version of her that slits her fucking wrists!” Wincing, I sucked in a sharp breath, but Hugh didn’t stop, clearly on a roll now. “Would it be the version of her that stays in bed for weeks at a time, or would it be the version of her who attacks anyone that looks sideways? Hmm? Can’t tell? Well, neither the fuck can I,” Hugh shouted, losing his cool now. “But when the girl I
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