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... be like a man unburdening himself of all decency.
As he took another step forward, his dark shirt dropped to the cold marble floor, lying there as abandoned as his barely-there control.
His heavy gaze trailed down Xion’s almost bare body.
That back— so pristine, so pale — looked like something out of a temple painting. The golden chains that draped across it glinted wickedly.
Darius wanted to hold them.
No, he wanted to tear them off, grab the waist beneat ...
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