His other hand slid from my face down my neck, my shoulder, to caress the front of my breast. If I hadn't just had my metaphysical peek inside Nathaniel's head, I would probably have gotten angry, or rude. I wasn't a hundred percent sure whether this politeness was really Micah's idea, or if he'd picked up my discomfort. I had some vague memory of clothes being ripped away, but I wasn't sure when, or even which of us had done it.
You are not doing this, he said. Make love to me, and I won't have a reason to be jealous. He came to stand at the end of the bed, hands on hips. No, he put a hand up, I turned it down.
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