Deborah Gutteridge

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Grim’s breath hisses through his parted lips. “It’s been too long since I’ve touched you.” He plants one hand on the wall above my head before freeing my wrist, running his fingers across my collarbone and then gliding them down my chest until he presses his palm between my breasts. His eyes close as the tip of his finger taps out the rhythm of my pounding heart.
Some Kind of Monster (Friends with the Monsters, #2)
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