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Chapter 40

  • The heat of the tequila begins to warm my blood. “You’re very touchy,” I whisper.
  • “You’re very touchable.” His eyes drop to my lips and he reaches down and cups my face. “What did you do while I was away?”
  • “Nothing much . . .” My voice trails off; how am I supposed to string a sentence together when he’s looking at me like that?
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