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... ay the hand that had been playing with her eyelashes. With a groan, she turned over—and something hard, hot, and solid touched her body.
Did Botello heat up a rock and put it in my bed again?
Still half-dreaming, Ayra pulled the warm thing close. It had just the right curves to fit perfectly into her hands, and the texture was so pleasant she kept stroking it absentmindedly, relishing the languid sleepiness—until a quiet laugh tickled her ears.
A moment later, something d ...
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