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... each one seemed to have little hands, scratching at the softest part of his heart.
Elias Hawthorne’s gaze suddenly darkened, his eyes seemed aflame, and his Adam’s apple rolled painfully.
He struggled to restrain himself and laughed helplessly, "Raina, no mischief."
"No mischief?" Raina nestled into his arms, soft and tender like an entwining water snake. She hummed with a coquettish voice, dissatisfied, "What right do you have to say that? Are you ordering me?"
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