Kiwi ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

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“You mean a marriage blanc, I suppose?” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Separate lives, separate beds?” “Oh, no,” he said, and took hold of both her hands. “I definitely want to bed you. Repeatedly. What sort of marriage do you call that?”
Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone (Outlander, #9)
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