Elsa's POV
His lips are still on mine, devouring, desperate—like he’s trying to pull every last breath from my lungs. And I let him. Because, for a moment, I don’t want to think.

His lips are still on mine, devouring, desperate—like he’s trying to pull every last breath from my lungs. And I let him. Because, for a moment, I don’t want to think.

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