The scent of Edward permeates my car. It's everywhere. My clothes, my hair, my fingertips. I can't escape him.
Worse, I don't really want to.
The twenty-minute drive across town has never seemed so long. Tangible memories of last night torment me, bringing the feel of his lips, the firm grip of his fingers on my thighs, the way he filled me as no one else has.
My anger is fitful, flaring and fleeting, and I wonder why I can't hold onto it. I have never been so dismissed… disregarded. Disrespected.
So why do I feel more hurt than indignation?
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