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... ut, branding me and leaving me trembling and unsatisfied on the cold marble.

My body was a riot of need, every nerve begging, furious and humming for more of him. He knew exactly what he was doing. He always knew.

The worst part of all this is that dream-Grant didn’t leave me stranded. In that blurred fever of sleep, I’d come apart twice, maybe three times, writhing shamelessly under the phantom weight of him.

Real Grant, though... real Grant was a bastard. He built the f ...

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