Leandra Parsons

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“I was going to ask if you wanted to come inside,” she whispers. My grip tightens on her neck. “God, yes. More than anything.” She looks up at me, her gaze equal amounts earnest and hungry. She wants this. She wants me. And without a word, she opens her door and tugs me into her apartment.
1 Last Shot (The Fight Game, #4)
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