Tension radiates from his coiled muscles. I slow to a crawl of motion as the fabric climbs higher until it finally reaches the lace edge of my panties. And then I stop. Lachlan’s eyes snap to mine, dark with a dare. His thumb traces the hem. “Thought you didn’t like to wear these,” he says, his voice low and husky. “Special circumstances.” I press my hand over his when he grips the edge of scalloped lace. “I want you,” I say before doubt can blossom in his thoughts. “You know things about me and my past that I don’t tell anyone.” His face creases with pain. He takes a breath to reply, but I
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