"No, no! I meant you hurt me when you treat me like a dog, or a toy!" I beat his chest with my fists, still weeping.

I sniffled, the desperate confession tearing free: "And then you come here and touch me, and I don't want to like it! I don't want to want you, but you make me like it! You make me crave you, and I hate that!" My voice broke, heavy with tears and self-loathing. Even though I realized I sounded like a angry child.

For a few seconds, he just looked at me, his expression ...