Leandra Parsons

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“I’m good at a lot of things, Rosie.” She laughed, lightly and beautifully, and then I stole that laugh with my mouth, not releasing it again until we were both breathless. “Julian,” she whimpered between barely parted lips. “Show me. Show me what you’re good at.” Fuck. Her voice slipped and slurred, and hearing her say my name like
Alive at Night (Wildflower, #1)
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