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... or clicked shut, sealing Steve the Iguana’s scaly ass outside where he belonged, my knees gave out. I collapsed onto the nearest couch—which, admittedly, still smelled faintly of saltwater and reptile—and let out a groan that had been building since the moment that creature stole my very expensive lingerie.
Nathan flopped down beside me, his arm immediately curling around my waist like he was afraid I’d dissolve into hysterics if he didn’t anchor me. (He wasn’t wrong.) His shirt was rump ...
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