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“Fuck it.” I inch closer, lick my lips. “Kiss me, rookie.” He smiles. “Hell, yes.”
“You’re out of this world,” I say, running a finger down his chest. “You’re a moonshot. You’re a grand slam over the fences. That’s you, rookie. You’re my walk-off home run.”
Grant Blackwood is my undoing because he gets me. He understands me. He gives more of himself to me than anyone ever has. I want him beyond these walls, beyond this room, beyond tonight.
