Michelle cleared her throat. “Did we just have angry sex?” she asked softly. “Not angry,” he replied. “Just . . . mildly disgruntled.” She huffed out a laugh. “Well, this is awkward.” Gabe swallowed hard. His heart still pounded his rib cage like fists against a punching bag. “You’re right,” he rasped. “I know.” He shook his head. “No, I mean . . . we do have unresolved . . .” “Issues?” she suggested. “Baggage? Tension?” “All of that.” He turned to look into her eyes, and his heart flip-flopped in his chest. How was it possible to feel utterly satisfied but also terrified about what was to
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