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“I’ve been making the stuff last, but I just got to the bottom of the one from Monroe and there it was.” He smirks at me. “For my sexy little tomato.” My gaze narrows. “Why am I a tomato?” He leans in, poking my chin with his fingertip. “Because you’re a fruit and no one knows it.”
Fragments (Alabaster Penitentiary, #4)
by Nyla K.
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