But moments later, he rested his chin on my shoulder like a fucking dog, and in a low voice, he asked, “What do you see, sweetheart?” On instinct, I wriggled my shoulders to get him away from me and when he moved back, I turned to face him, ready to stand my ground. “One, I’m not your sweetheart. And two, I see nothing.” “Is me being near clouding your spidey-senses? Are you missing what’s right in front of you?” he teased. “What, that you’re annoying and about three seconds away from having my elbow shoved into your ribs? Count yourself lucky it isn’t my knife. I know how much you like to
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