Ava Pippitt

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“He’s not enough for you.” “I have no idea why I’m even here.” “You do know.” He presses a kiss to my cheekbone, and I rise to my tiptoes, shivering. “You’re here to tell me the truth. Once you stop being a little liar.” He’s right, of course. He’s always right. “No one can kiss me like you do.”
The Hating Game
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