Heather Foster

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“So…” I drum my fingers on my knees as the highway hums below us. “Do you have a girlfriend?” It’s dark inside the truck, but when I glance at Hans’s profile, I can see his brows rise. “What part of me having my hand on your hot little pussy makes you think I could have a girlfriend?” His tone is dry. My face flames at his choice of words, and I shift in my seat.
Hans (Alliance, #4)
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