“You wanted my misery, but I’m giving you my forgiveness,” I breathed, voice thick. “When you let me go, I won’t turn you in even though I should. I can’t be the person to send you back to prison . . .” I inhaled raggedly. “I’ll walk away when this is over and I won’t look back—though not because I hate you but because I don’t. Not even a little bit . . .” The words settled around us for a beat before he said drily, “This is getting too close to a Nicholas Sparks movie for me, kotyonok. I just wanted to convince you to let me fuck you again.” “I’m an emotional fuck,” I replied. “Get over it.”
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