Allyson Krause

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Almost kisses, like threats ghosting over my skin, had been his tactic … until now. This wasn’t a ghost touch. It was substantial, and yet it felt like the promise of a kiss, a threat of what lay ahead. Stunned by Remo’s action, I held his gaze. Finally, I ripped away and raised my palm to slap him, but he caught my wrist. He jerked me closer once more.
Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles, #3)
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