“Is that all?” “What?” “My red flags. Is that all of them?” I glare. “No.” “What else, baby?” My mind goes blank. I know there is more. An entire college-ruled sheet of red flags to keep me up late at night, chinks in his armor for me to overthink and dissect. But I can’t think of a single one now that he’s sitting across from me, saying these words. He smiles at my hesitance. There. There’s one. “You have a panty-dropping smile!” His head goes back, a laugh rumbling from his chest, and my stupid, stupid, stupid fucking body. It responds exactly like it always does when he does that, when I
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