Chelsea Springer

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When my skin touched his, my eyelids flickered like butterfly wings as I fought against the urge to weep. Instantly, his hands moved to my back, spreading across my tired muscles. A heavy sigh escaped me. I waited for him to grip my neck seductively or press against me and say something deliciously sensual, but he never did.
Where did you go? (Infatuated fae Book 3)
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