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... of that bastard from her lips. My mouth moved with hunger, frustration, and all the fucked-up feelings I’d buried too long. She tasted like coffee and defiance and something addictively June.

When I pulled back, her lips were parted, breath shaky — her eyes dazed.

Good.

Before she could throw up that damn wall again — the fake relationship card, the sarcastic deflections, the lies — I slid my hands down, gripped her thighs, and hoisted her up. She yelped, arms flailing i ...

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