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... Gasping, I whipped my head to the right. Nala was curled tight, knees drawn to her stomach, chest heaving like she’d been drowning. Her hair spilled across the pillow in a wild mess, my oversized t-shirt riding up to expose the smooth plane of her stomach. I wasn’t thinking about that, though—not now.
"Fuck," I muttered, sitting up. "Nala, you okay?"
"I... I’m sorry," she gasped, eyes wide, still caught in whatever nightmare had her.
"No, no, it’s okay." I reached out, h ...
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