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17: Harriet.

I spent the night.

I slept in Locke Atwood's bed.

If we're getting technical, I was held prisoner...but being trapped beneath his big leg, his arms wrapped around me like a straitjacket? There are way worse things in this life.

Understatement.

I've never been more filled with joy. With hope and love.

Oh God, those are such dangerous emotions.

Two days ago I slunk back into the shadows, but he pulled me out. He refused to let me stay there. I was just going to watch him sleep from the roof of his guest house. But he called me. And lord, he was so aroused. So hard. I couldn't say no. I couldn't stay away, no matter how many times I called myself selfish. A liar.

He has no idea who is sleeping beside him.

What if...he never finds out?

Is that possible?

We could go on like this forever, insatiable for each other. Lost in this crazy tailspin we throw one another into. It's an addiction. We are an addiction. And maybe I was crazy to think walking away would be so easy. No. No, it's impossib
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