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... torn-open blouse fabric. Her face, the specific, open, undisguised face of someone who had been first and was watching someone else in the same place and was feeling everything about that simultaneously.
He looked at her over Nara’s shoulder.
The purple eyes. His chin tilted. The specific, minimal, inexorable gesture.
’Come here.’
She went.
His hand, while not losing its grip on Nara, found Preet’s hip. Guided her. Not to the front — to the side. His posi ...
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