“Stooping to kiss below my ear, pulling me close from behind. Running his hands over my body, soft in a black sweater, holding my breasts, slipping his fingers into my tights. How quickly his moods changed, pivoting like someone turning sharply on a boot heel. Vague thought before I closed my eyes, leaned into his hands--how many other women had he reached toward as a distraction?”
―
Thirst for Salt
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