“Hush.” Oh, there was that damned word again. “I’ll be the judge of what I find beautiful, thank you very much. And you were beautiful, riding that edge of fear and shame. God, you were lovely.”
“Are you trying to make sure I can’t get my head through the door?” It was a lame joke, but it was all Gunther had to try and defuse the moment, because he was pretty sure that the point of all this praise was to make him feel vulnerable inside again.
It was working.
He’s lost. Half-afraid and half-hoping, he’s beginning to trust again, but is he sliding into something he can’t control?
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