Frida

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He turns to leave and only now do I notice he’s wearing gym clothes that hug his body in the most delectable way. I’m too confused to even stop myself from staring at his perfectly round ass as he strolls away looking completely unaffected. And I’m too speechless to even respond to the parting remark he tosses over his shoulder. “Pick you up at six on Friday.” God. I’m in so much trouble.
The Front Runner (Gold Rush Ranch, #3)
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