“Lily,” Zahariev warned, his voice low and rough. My fingers tightened in his hair. “I thought I told you not to call me that.” “Everyone calls you Lily,” he said. “My friends call me Lily,” I said. “Am I not your friend?” he asked. I rocked my hips, reminding him of our current circumstances. Zahariev’s breath hitched. “Are you interested in fucking your friends?” I asked. His hands shifted, spanning my rib cage. It was like he wanted to put distance between us but couldn’t gather the courage to do so. Selfish prick. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I blinked, my hold on him lessening.
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