“I’m an idiot,” he said for the second time in as many days. A pair of wiry arms tightened around him. “Is that what you’re going to say every time you try to push me away?” Every time? Every time? What could Rivington possibly be thinking? Jack ought to get away, say something cutting, something true and ruthless about how there wasn’t going to even be another time, let alone a sequence of events that could be described as every time. But instead, when Rivington leaned in, Jack let himself be kissed. Rivington tipped Jack’s chin back and kissed him and Jack just let it happen, as if he
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