Citas
A man, not a boy.
“How old are you, Nora?” he asks next.
I blink. “Twenty-one.”
His expression darkens. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Almost eighteen,” I admit reluctantly.
I blink. “Twenty-one.”
His expression darkens. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Almost eighteen,” I admit reluctantly.
HOT AF
. A man, not a boy.
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