THE LIBRARY

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Savannah

I’m trying to study. Trying.

But the moment I see Kian across the library—leaning back in his chair, watching me like a hunter waiting for his prey—I know I’m screwed.

I ignore him. I try to.

But when I slip between the bookshelves, he’s suddenly there.

Blocking my path.

Closing the distance.

Pinning me against the shelves before I can breathe.

“Kian,” I hiss, my hands flat against his chest, trying to push him back. “We can’t—”

He doesn’t let me finish.

His hands grip my wrists, pinning them above my head. His body presses into mine, hard and unrelenting.

“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, voice dark, teasing. Dangerous. “And yet, here we are.”

And before I can stop him—before I can stop myself—his mouth takes.

No hesitation. No warning. No escape.

And I don’t want one.

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