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... breathe properly. Even my heart couldn’t stop racing.
Then, just when I swore he was about to kiss me, his hand moved.
Not to my lips.
But to my hair.
A single strand had fallen across my cheek, and he tucked it behind my ear.
His fingers brushed my skin like he was doing it on purpose.
Heck, he literally didn’t have any right to do that.
My pulse jumped.
Then, he smirked. "Wow. Look at you."
I jerked back, defensive. "What? ...
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