theresa goodwin

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“Really?” Our fingers bump in our mutual efforts to remove my belt. “I expected you to fight me on that.” Her breath catches, lower lip trembling. “I don’t want to fight with you right now. I was so worried you’d been hurt—” “Shhh.” I snare her mouth in a soft kiss. “Nothing and no one is going to keep me from you, Meadow.”
The Mobster's Masseuse
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