I almost just straight up maul him—but first I have some things I need to get off my chest. His mouth opens to say something, but I cut him off. “You know what? Fuck you.” His brows shoot up, and he rears back. “That date was not fake, and we both know it. So, fuck you for saying that.” I’m worked up, and my chest rises and falls heavily. “And also fuck you for walking away like a perfect gentleman. Weeks of blatant sexual promises, and you walk away? You should have bent me over the hood of my truck and fucked me on the spot.” I watch his bright green eyes go dark. “Stop treating me like
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