Priscilla Malkieh

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“I want you,” he declared, and the admission must have pained him as much as it elated me. His brows bent together, nose flaring like he was laying himself down at my feet and handing me a sword, not knowing if I’d ask him to stand again or cut his head off. “I want you,” he repeated on a raspy breath. “And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
Blind Side (Red Zone Rivals, #2)
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