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... were still the consistency of overcooked noodles, but even if she could stand, she didn’t want to. She let her entire weight settle into the iron-clad grip he had on her waist.
Damien was holding her flush against his chest, supporting her effortlessly. But he was still rigid. She could feel the erratic, heavy thud of his heart pounding against her own chest. She could see the sharp, dangerous ticking of the muscle in his jaw.
Aria slid her hands slowly up the lapels of his suit ...
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