Damian's hands were on the back of my bra; somehow it had survived that first rush. It was like a thousand different flavors filled my mouth, so that instead of being delicious, it was overwhelming. I reached out for him, caught his shirt, and drew him into us. Nathaniel had propped himself up on his elbows and was looking at Jason.
I couldn't declare undying love, because it's not what I felt. That place inside me where Richard had been meant to fit, to fill, was empty, but not empty like a wound. He was still staring at his scraped-up hands. He'd done that for me.
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