“Can you not touch me, please.” I tried to pull away, but something inside was stopping me. I liked how he stroked my hair and looked at it like it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. “You know,” he mused, biting his lip. “I don’t think I can.” He side-stepped until he was standing right in front of me and whispered, “I love your hair.” Words eluded me, and my breaths were coming in short sharp gasps that I tried to hide. “Do I need to remind you about my newly acquired knife skills?” I stared at him from under my lashes, my heart racing with anticipation. “Do your worst,” he replied,
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