"Good," he exhales, craning over me again, the skin of his lips brushing my own when his mouth moves to whisper,
"Tell me I can kiss you."
It's part dare, part command.
I slightly shake my head against his. "Don't tell me what to do."
"Reese."
"Emmett, you work for me."
He hesitates for a moment, but there's no mistaking the conviction or desperation in his next words.
"Fire me."
I'M FERAL
— May 15, 2026 04:36AM
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