Mac Rose

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I held my breath and nodded before leaning toward him and brushing my lips over his one more time. Because I could. Because he wanted me to. And if I had doubted it, the low moan in his throat and the hand he used to cup the back of my head would have confirmed it for me. So I told him, “Yes.” His lips took mine once more, and then he whispered, “Good.”
Hands Down
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