Summer Fanning

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“If you make any more comments about this girl over here and I find out,” Koen says, too low for anyone but the three of us to hear, “it’ll be your throat.” I shiver. The man breathes hard, clutching his wrist to his chest. “Show me you understood.” He nods quickly. “Very good. C’mon, Serena.”
Summer Fanning
Legs=open
Mate (Bride, #2)
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