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The pain of my separation from Roxy cut me open and made me bleed with every day that passed.
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I’d sooner burn my own heart from my chest than put her in harm’s way.
I hated being tactile with anyone. Anyone except Darcy. Alright, and Darius. Apparently, I only liked the D.
“We’re all at least a little fucked up, Tory,” he said roughly. “But the people who love us don’t give a shit about that. Better still – they love us even more for it.”
I wish I could hate you, but I feel something far worse than that. A love that won’t die for the man who broke me.
The lips that had cursed me, caressed me, kissed me, and taunted me. The ones that had always spoken her mind no matter whether she knew they’d get her into trouble or not.
It really shouldn’t have gotten me so turned on to have a girl insulting me, but I’d take Roxy Vega calling me every name under the sun over having a million compliments from anyone else.
“You’d love being dominated by me, Roxy,” he promised. “I’d pin you down and make you scream so good you’d forget all about trying to stop me as I marked you as mine so thoroughly that you’d never doubt that it was true ever again.”