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My ex wasn’t half as hot as Connor, but that’s only because most men aren’t. He was fully handsome and 100 percent manipulative. He taught me the extent of my flaws. Just how deep and pervasive they are; how they meant that nobody else, and barely even he, could ever love me. So I know the truth. Girls like me aren’t meant for men like Connor. No matter how warm and convincing it might feel at their side. Which means that I can’t read into this. Into any of this.
As much as I’m turned on by him, I’m also languishing from embarrassment. I’m not a sexy goddess. I’m no man’s fantasy. I learned that over and over again from my ex. Which means that whatever Connor is responding to now is based on pure testosterone. He just wants to have sex. And so do I. Even though I also want so much more.