“Fuck,” Ryder hissed, and those big hands were suddenly on my butt cheeks, squeezing and kneading. “This ass, Dakota. Thing dreams are made of. Did you know that? The way I’ve wanted to get my hands all over it? Mark it? Claim it?” Lust crashed through me, all mixed with the confusion. “I thought we were friends?” Somehow, I was tossing out the weak designation we’d relegated ourselves to. Trying to make it a tease, only the last word cracked. His rough chuckle scraped the air, just like his rough hands were scraping over my backside. “Oh, Dakota, we’re friends. Really good friends.” I pushed
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