Letting out a frustrated ground, I finally tear myself away from him. It feels like a literally tearing, the pain of it clear and sharp as anything physical, but I catch his hand to ease it, and for now, I can handle the separation.
"I'll clean up later, let's go," I say, walking toward the sofa where my boots are laying by the coffee table.
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"I'll clean up later, let's go," I say, walking toward the sofa where my boots are laying by the coffee table.