He never asked me to love him.
He only made it impossible to leave.
There was something almost cruel about the way he looked at me, like he already knew I would surrender. He tasted like liquor, carried danger in his smile, and left something poisonous behind every time he touched me.
I should have hated him. Instead, I kept coming back for more.
Post #3763
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Forwarded from Восход Луны