Pawn of Fate
I shook my head, biting my lip to keep quiet.
He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes, before returning his attention to my breasts.
My hands roamed his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his shirt. I tugged at the fabric, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine.
He set me down gently, allowing me to pull his shirt over his head. I drank in the sight of him, all lean muscle and tanned skin.
A scar curved along his ribs, and I traced it with my finger, wondering at its story.
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