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... felt it in every nerve, every vein, a slow golden throb beneath his skin that pulsed in time with each woman wrapped around him. He didn’t know how long they’d been tangled in the bloom’s cradle - an hour, a day, a lifetime - but time no longer moved in a way that mattered. All that existed was this: the heat still lingering between their legs, the warmth of shared breath, the raw tremble of love that had unmade them.
Lucy shifted first, her hand gliding up his chest, slick with sweat a ...
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