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Summary
“Can I take you home?” Copia asks, trailing his fingers along the outside of her thigh. Up, down. Up, down. It’s hypnotic, and the space between them simmers. A bead of condensation drips down the inside of the windshield.
Cecilia’s breath catches in her throat, hoping she understands what Copia is asking without asking. “Whose home?” she asks in return.
Copia swallows; she can see his throat bob. “My home."Series
- Part 2 of Cecilia and Copia
