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His name was Kai. He didn’t wear a suit. He wore jeans with grease stains on the knee and a black henley that clung to shoulders built from years of hauling steel. His jaw was sharp, his eyes the color of rain on asphalt, and when he smiled, it wasn’t charming—it was knowing .

She didn’t delete it.

He stepped closer. Not aggressive— inevitable . Like a tide. Ivy’s spine straightened. She was used to being the predator. But Kai didn’t circle. He simply… stood . hookuphotshot ivy aura

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