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by Sarah M. Anderson


  He got hard just thinking of it. Of her.

  Then she did something that snapped him out of his thoughts.

  She looked at him.

  There was no mistaking this—she looked right at him. And smiled.

  What the hell?

  He started to shrink back, but she turned away from him, gathering up something off the floor. Did she know he was here or not?

  He should go.

  He didn’t.

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