[At the sound of approval, her hand slides over his face, into his hair, brushing her fingers through it. There's something satisfying about messing up the perfect way it was hanging.
She leans in, and she can't tell if it's because she wants to or because he wants her to, but her lips hover over his.] No, but I can carry a few. That's what I'm here for, right?
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She leans in, and she can't tell if it's because she wants to or because he wants her to, but her lips hover over his.] No, but I can carry a few. That's what I'm here for, right?