“You want a guy who can break you, Blake,” he rasps, his voice low and gritty and shooting straight to my core. “One who grabs you by the throat and squeezes as he enters you. One who treats you like you aren’t made of glass. You’re different than other girls.”
Me: I’m not sure if you’ve been hit in the head one too many times, but I’m not your girl. Theo: You’ve always been my girl. Sorry it took me so long to see it.
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