“You don't owe me anything,” he says suddenly, holding up his palm. “I came in here to talk.” “What if I don't want to talk?” I ask and he smiles again, reaching out the hand with the bat tattoos all over it, running his heated palm up my exposed thigh. I close my eyes and feel my breath rush out of me. Holy shit. My heart and soul feel dead … my body feels almost desperately alive. Like, if she can get all these touches and sensations inside of me, maybe they'll jump-start my heart? “I'm more than happy to fuck you,” Muse says, “but I want it to be mutual.” “It's mutual,”
