Desiree

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“Thanks, Wick.” It feels like every muscle in my body fucking bulges. “Goldfinch?” I grit out. She tips her head up at me, her eyes lidded, my blood surging. “I’m hanging on by a fraying thread. I really need you to not say another male’s name right now.” Her eyes widen. “Oh,” she breathes. “Yeah. Oh.”
Goldfinch (The Plated Prisoner, #6)
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