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I followed him down the hall and into his room. He closed the door and tossed my dirty clothes into his hamper. “Don’t do that! I’ll take them home and wash them,” I tried to grab for them but Caeden grabbed my hands instead. “It’s fine,” he kissed the side of my mouth while I squirmed in his grasp. “Caeden, your mom doesn’t need to clean my dirty clothes.” “It’s not a problem. Besides,” he said huskily in my ear, “my mom doesn’t do my laundry. I do my own, just like a big boy.” I laughed. “And you know what else?” his lips brushed my ear. “What?” “I even make my own bed.


Micalea Smeltzer


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