I'd never just turned to Nathaniel because I wanted him. From a coffee table that had almost as much crap on it as the backseat of Zerbrowski's car, he fished out a cigarette and a lighter. I kissed his fingers, then rested my face against his hand. m? I thought merely that I wished you would be less afraid of what you wanted from Nathaniel, and what Nathaniel wanted from you.
I wanted to be friends with Ronnie again, really friends, if it was still possible. Nothing déclassé, but he got more out of simply touching a woman's back, shoulder, or waist, than some men got out of touching breasts and groin. There was no logic to pulling away from a kiss and putting myself flat on the bed. I thought about that for a second.
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