Jauzlynn  Harden

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“I still don’t like you,” I said, my voice breathy. “Me neither,” he growled. Fisting his hand in the back of my hair, he tilted my head to the side. Scraped his teeth down my neck. “But I’m going to make you come anyway.” “No you’re not.” Yes, please make me come, Corban. Please.
Falling for My Enemy (Dirty Martini Running Club, #2)
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