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For everyone who is convinced that there’s a goddess of hell inside them…
'In my experience, the prettiest men are the best ones to avoid,' I told her.
'Welcome to hell,' she said, with a grin.
There was that fucking word again. I hated it. Potential. Always so much potential, but never, ever fulfilled.
He loved me. I could see it in his face, hear it in his broken voice, feel it in his electrifying touch. All this time, all those years alone in New York, and someone, somewhere, loved me this much. And I never knew.

