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What kind of idiot brought the most beautiful girl to a tawdry, cacophonous party like this and deserted her? If only he knew there were monsters out there, waiting for their turn.
She knew where this was going: She wanted him, and he wanted her to want him, and it didn’t matter where her desire ended and his invisible persuasion began. Wanting him didn’t scare her, didn’t feel impulsive or shameful or dangerous. It simply felt inevitable.
“How old are you?” He looked surprised; obviously this wasn’t where he expected her to start. “Twenty-five.” And she’d expected him to be honest. “Yes, but how long have you been twenty-five?” Brigan grinned, saying cheekily, “A while.” A laugh burst out of Cat’s throat. “Is this your way of admitting to me that you’ve read Twilight?”