“Don’t give me that shit,” he says. He takes one long step toward me. I step back to the wall, and he closes the distance. “You know it matters.” My heart is thumping so loud it’s audible, echoing in my ears. “I—” His mouth lands on mine, rough and unrestrained, as if he’s been pushed slightly too far. And all the tension I’ve held for the past week—tension I didn’t even know was there—snaps loose and unfurls like a sail in a storm. I’ve dreamed about those minutes on the deck, have woken each day feverish and desperate for more. And I’ve spent a week hating myself for the way I ran, like a
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