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... hing through the line—low, uneven, and rough—the kind of sound that did things to me I didn’t want to admit.
For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. It was as though the entire world narrowed to that one moment, to the pulse in my throat and the weight of his voice hanging in my ear.
"Reina," he said at last, quieter this time, his voice dragging over my name like velvet over a bruise. "You have no idea what you do to me."
I closed my eyes, pressing the phone closer. Every ...
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