Clarisse tightly shut her eyes, unwilling to look at him, while his lips and tongue aggressively invaded her mouth, demanding her sweetness. The fiery traces of his presence still lingered in her intimate, soft places, and her whole body was drenched in the sweat left behind by his passion. Tears rolled down her cheeks, burning hot.
Her love for him was as deep as her hatred for him.
Her hatred for him was as profound as her love for him.
If she didn't love him, why would she be so angry and hurt by his deceit? If he were just someone unrelated, she could have easily ignored it.
Love and hate, they can change in an instant.
