“What are you doing?” I flattened my hands on his chest. “You know what I’m doing,” he grumbly whispered, sending a wave of white-hot loveliness and tension through my body, making my toes curl. I shook my head, panic and hope picking fights with each other, causing a ruckus. “I don’t. I honestly do not.” “Then let me show you.” “Cletus.” I bent my head to the side but maintained eye contact, moving my hands to grip his biceps. “I’m not made for this.” “What’s that?” “For love.” The words were out before I could catch them, before I knew I was going to say them. I immediately regretted my
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