and she wondered if she would ever get used to this feeling. Being desired. Being wanted, when she’d spent her life believing that no one would ever see her as anything but a bizarre science experiment.
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“I fear tomorrow will be even more difficult for you, Sir Clay. Do try to think of me when you can.”
“Try, Princess?” He smirked, meeting her gaze again. “I can’t seem to think of much else.”
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“You should hate me. I’m an idiot. I made a mistake.”
“You may be an idiot, but I assure you, you’re quite a lovable one.”