She drops her forehead to my chest and shakes. “I have to tell you something, Easton.” I run my hands over her hair and cup the back of her head. “You can tell me anything.” Her shoulders lift and fall with a strong breath—in and out—and I brace myself for whatever the hell she’s about to throw my way because it can’t be anything good. Her Bermuda blue eyes lock on mine, and she runs her teeth over her lip. “I’ve never done this before.” “Done what?” I ask, confused. “Any of this?” she whispers but doesn’t look away. “I mean, a little under the shirt action years ago. But that was all . . .
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