He invades my space and I stop breathing. His right hand lifts and stretches toward me as if he’s going to caress my face. I don’t move. I lock my gaze on his. I can read everything in his expression. He wants me. He’s made no attempt at hiding it, and a large part of me wants him too. His fingers glide across my cheek, and then he holds out a single finger in front of me with an eyelash. “Make a wish, Pipes.” My pulse slows as I realize he isn’t going to kiss me. Of course, he isn’t. He thinks I have a boyfriend. I blow the eyelash off his finger, but I don’t make a wish. Making a wish
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