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Julian.

I still taste him on my lips. His mouth was always hungry, devouring me like I was oxygen.

His hands—God, those hands with their tattooed knuckles—they knew every secret place on my body.

When we were younger, those hands would brush mine in the hallways at school, leaving electricity in their wake.

He was always forbidden, always Adrian’s brother, always the dark flame I knew would consume me if I got too close.

And yet I got too close.