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“What did I ever do to you that you gotta be so mean to me all the time?” she asked

He sed hard and dropped his attention back to her boots That’s what he hadn’t wanted to put a name to She looked hurt—sounded hurt As if the th

ings he’d said to her over the years had ot so defensive, and in his uilt of her profession and justified each accusation and insult he’d uttered

But what if he’d just been hurting her all this ti he’d said, like a slice with a knife he couldn’t take back

Guilt swirled with shame as he pulled off her unlaced boot and moved to the other

“Loyal”

The plea in her voice tripped his pulse and drew his head up like a net

“Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, Roxanna” The denial was self-defensive and automatic, and yet with his next breath, he realized it was true He didn’t hate her, he hated what his mind said she represented

He pulled off her other boot and set it next to the first, then avoided her gaze as he rose and dragged the covers back “Come on Get in bed”

“Kiss me”

He jerked his gaze to hers, his fingers clenching on the comforter “What?”

“Kiss rab a handful of his shirt “Just once”

His body screaed to shake his head “You’re drunk You don’t knohat you’re asking”

“I’ you to kiss me Come on, it won’t kill you”