RYDER.She was an absolute dream as she shattered.Her spine curved, fingers still tangled in my hair, and the sound that tore from her throat—broken, raw, my name shaped like a prayer and a curse—lodged behind my ribs and stayed there.I'd had my fair share of women. I hated to admit it now, kneeling in the wreckage of what just happened, but the count existed. Faces and names and bodies that had meant something for an hour or a night and then faded into memory that doesn't cling. None of them came close to this. Not the sounds they made, not the way they moved, not the way their bodies shook. Briella had come apart like something fundamental cracked open inside her, and the absence of performance hit me harder than any touch ever had.This was Briella. The same girl who kept her head down in crowded rooms, who angled her body away from attention like it was a physical force she could dodge, who spoke in careful, measured sentences. The one who blushed when I looked at her too direct
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