Leandra Parsons

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“Do you want me to stop?” I mutter against her skin. “No,” she breathes out, pulling me closer by the back of my neck. That’s my girl. I take my time breathing her in, savoring her intakes of breath and the delicious way she arches her back. Slowly, I drag my lips from her collarbone to her neck, to her jaw, to her cheek. And then I stop. A choice.
The Deepest End of Love (The Brightest Light #3)
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