Isabel Sevilla

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“Good morning.” I smile, settling my hips over his. My breath catches at the feel of him beneath me, hard and ready. “I could get used to waking up like this.” He looks at me with a hunger that mirrors my own, and his hand slides from my hip, over the curve of my waist, and up between the peaks of my breasts to cup the side of my neck gently, carefully.
Iron Flame (The Empyrean, #2)
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