I try to keep my gaze in a safe spot. I try to look at those aquamarine eyes that have haunted my dreams for weeks. I really do try. But like a fucking moth to a flame, my gaze drops. I can’t resist it. I look at her tan thighs and where the hem of the nightgown cuts dangerously high, and I remember kissing that very skin on display. I remember the way her thighs shook when my lips kissed the soft skin at the apex of her legs. I remember the way she moaned my name. And that’s the fucking problem. I remember every single thing when it comes to her. And every moment I find myself hoping that the
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