Trinity Smith

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Her hair had been swept up and her dress was low-cut, with thin little straps that Apollo imagined he could break with a snap of his fingers. Maybe if he played this right, she’d let him do so later that night. Quietly he stepped behind her. “You look beautiful,” he whispered. Then because she was his, and because he could, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the back of her neck.
A Curse for True Love (Once Upon a Broken Heart, #3)
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