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March 17 - March 31, 2024
“Charlotte.” Tate turns to the kitten and blinks. “There is a piece of walking lint in your kitchen.”
“You’re a portrait of innocence.” He groans, the heat of his tongue tracing my ear’s contour, sending jolts of sensation through me. “And I ache to unravel every layer you hide.”
“Oh, Charlotte, never think that I would end your life, but I will certainly bind you to my bed, where you’ll remain until I’ve stripped every trace of insolence from you.”

