Whitlee Wayland

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“Which side do you prefer?” When I look over my shoulder for his answer, I find him already watching me intently. “I’ll take the floor.” “Isaiah—” “I don’t mind.” “You have a game tomorrow. You can’t sleep on the floor. It’s my literal job to make sure your body is ready to play.” That timely smirk is back. “Oh, baby, trust me. My body is ready to play.” 
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