“Anyway, I can’t stay. I have a hotel booked in Dublin.” “I’ll drive you back to check out.” He snaps out of his weird trance. “You’ll be staying with me tonight.” “I’m not going to sleep with you. Over my dead body, remember?” He cups my cheeks in his hands. They’re rough and confident, an artist’s hands, and my heart thunders with newly found pity for my mom. Now I get why she slept with my dad. Not all Casanovas are slimy. Mal isn’t. “Don’t let your feelings get in the way of facts.” “Meaning?” I frown. “Just because you don’t like the fact that you’re going to sleep with me doesn’t mean
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