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We’re all going to need a little therapy after this. 

He survived the Rwandan genocide to become an NBA legend. I survived a few hours of truly amateur torture to become the guy who falls apart when someone drops a tray of dishes.

We both volunteer at my brother-in-law’s gym for combat vets, and we’ve been circling each other for a year now.

It’s possible that pairing a seven-foot wall of sunshine with me—the guy who embodies goth chic and gets snarky about that one time I got waterboarded—might just be the mother of all bad ideas.

An even worse idea? Let’s add a splash of kink to the mix.

Damn, but I feel safe when he puts his arms around me.

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