emarni

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In one quick maneuver, I curl up into a sitting position bringing us together at about chin level, giving him no choice but to slide his hands up to my shoulders. With my nose a breath away from his lips now, I tilt my head back, baring my neck to him so I can meet the black, sparkling orbs glaring down at me. His hold on me tightens, becoming almost painful. “Stop me, Waylon.”
Where There's a Will (Lost Boys, #1)
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