“Why did you stop?” “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and dark and full of want. “For stopping?” She stared down at him, more confused than she’d ever been in her life. “You don’t owe me an apology.” “But I do. For all of it,” he said. “For the things I’ve done and said to you. For bringing you here. For this.” “I was quite enjoying it.” He exhaled, the sound harsh in their close quarters. “That’s the problem.” Her eyes widened. “It is?” He stood, guiding her feet to the floor. “No. Of course I want you to enjoy it. But this . . .” He paused and cursed again, low and wicked in the quiet
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