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... tion, Annie Anne’s gaze was unexpectedly indifferent.
Annie Anne lightly pressed her lips together and slowly spoke, "I told you, I don’t like the smell of smoke."
Oliver Hudson placed his fingertips on the side of Annie Anne’s neck, feeling the pulse under her skin with his palm.
Oliver’s throat moved up and down, but before he could say anything, Annie Anne stood on tiptoe and gently touched his lips with hers.
It was like a feather, barely noticeable.
" ...
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