“I think I love you,” I said, repeating her words to me all those years ago. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I want you to be my first. It’s okay. Touch me.” I stepped up to her, invading her space and throwing all of her shame back at her. “You’ll be the first to kiss me here.” I flicked her ear. “And here.” I touched her neck. “And here.” I brushed her nipple with my thumb. “I want to feel your body on mine. Am I okay? Am I doing it right? It feels good. Don’t stop. Oh, God. Oh, God. Don’t walk away. Please, I want this. You don’t have to protect me. You want it, too. I’m okay. I want it. I
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