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... like the island had made this place just for their bodies to remember everything. Jude fell back, and the grass caught him like a lover’s hand. Hands gripped his thighs. Breasts pressed to his chest. Lips slid over his skin. Moans rose and fell, slow, drawn out, reverent. He was filled, claimed, tasted, adored.
He kissed Lucy until her breath hitched and her back arched.
He gripped Zoey’s hips as she rode his thigh, crying out his name.
He took Sophie’s mouth while Grace ...
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