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29 Part I

There was something oddly subtle about the way sunlight of a youth fell against the ivory skin of a familiar girl. Her frame had become kin of the sheets, Jasper's hand kin of her skin. She writhed and gasped in the light of morning, lips parted by a wide girth of breath, eyebrows knitted and fingers clasping on the dishevelled, crumpled linen of the bedding beneath her.

The man lay above her, watching gasping breaths tumble from between her collarbones and through her lips as he offered her sweet, small smiles.

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