Katie Thayer

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“New rule, Bailey.” He points at my left hand, slung over the edge of the tub, and then between my legs. “So long as you’re wearing that ring, this pussy is mine.” My heart thunders at how base he sounds, staking a claim to my body. “Next time you find yourself thinking you’re going to pull that box of toys out and play with it all by yourself, you’re going to offer it to me first.”
Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)
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