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... to his with a desperate, pleading look, as if begging him to respond—or maybe to just end her misery.
Her hand hovered where she’d grabbed him, trembling slightly, her fair skin a stark canvas for the crimson tide consuming her.
Syn’s voice caught in his throat, a choked sound that refused to form into anything coherent, his hazel eyes wide with a mix of shock and embarrassment.
He stared at her, his breath shallow, the red bed beneath him suddenly feeling too warm, too ...
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