I looked at him, confused. “But I don’t want you to.” He made a frustrated noise in his throat. “This wasn’t what this was about, Gianna.” I blinked, and then the heat inside me dimmed and went cold. The man’s hands weren’t even on me—hadn’t been on me the entire time I’d practically mauled him. It seemed like I was always touching him. What’s wrong with me? He’d listened to my sob story and I’d reacted like a clingy virgin falling for her first lover. Humiliation settled inside me. And then I remembered Aleksandra. The man had a girlfriend and I was throwing myself at him. No wonder he wanted
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