Whit

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“You have a nice back.” The words tumbled haphazardly from my lips, and I slapped my hand to my mouth far too late to contain them. I turned away, covering my eyes and the humiliating blush that crawled over my face. “Bath. I meant you have a nice bath.” Before he wordlessly strode from the room, closing the door behind him, I caught a distinct dimple in his cheek.
Anathema (The Eating Woods, #1)
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