“Socks are bad. You get difficult when you are hungry. What else do I need to know?” he asked, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She met his gaze at the question, his hand lingering on her cheek. “That I’m not your salvation or your temptation. I’m not your anything.” His features hardened at her words, and his jaw clenched. “We both know that is not true, Tessa,” he finally said, brushing his thumb along her lower lip. Then he reached for her right hand and brought it to his lips, pressing them to the Mark there. Her breath hitched at the feel of his mouth on her skin.
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