Kelli Matthews

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He pulled his shirt over his head and cast it aside. Then he undid his buttons and dropped his breeches without ceremony. Well, not entirely without ceremony. There was a certain amount of fanfare. His rapidly growing erection all but trumpeted for attention, jutting out from its nest of dark hair. Waving in an embarrassing, adolescent way.
A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove, #2)
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