Frida

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“Enjoying the view?” She swallows, the column of her throat bobbing. “Yeah. You’re …” I quirk my head, curious about where she’s going with this. Her hand reaches up, and trembling fingers gently trail over my stomach, tracing my abs, tracking the V-line that runs down to my groin. “Stupid hot. Like what in the actual fuck?”
Reckless (Chestnut Springs, #4)
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