I sat there, hugging him and trying to figure out if I liked it or not. It scared me just like he did when he broke into the house last week. I hated that, but… I didn’t really hate it anymore. Probably because I wasn’t as scared of him anymore. It was fear in a controlled environment. The motorcycle wasn’t. Or maybe I just needed to try it again. “I won’t let you go ag—” He stopped and evened out his voice. “I won’t let you go,” he said. “Hold on.” I inhaled a shaky breath and readied myself for another go. And when the bike shot off again, I lifted my head, making myself not hide from it. He
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