But before his lips meet mine again, a loud growl attached to a yawn blasts from the living room. Oh shit. My eyes bulge out of my head, and of course, Reed keeps smiling, even wider than before. “Looks like we have company,” he whispers. “Oh my god,” I shoot out, but he wags his brows, reaching under my shirt, tugging the soft tuft of hair I leave in the shape of an airstrip. Immediately I become a mess of feet flailing and hands batting in his face, urging him off of me. “Are you crazy? Get off. Get off. Get off.” “You already did, sunshine. Or was it anticlimactic? Because we can try again,
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