“What about me do you find distasteful?” “It isn’t that.” The instinct to protect her from hurt was a hard one to smother. “Then…” Her gaze bounced to the side, her arms inching up to cover her breasts, now quivering with a chill. “Are you and Mr. Murdoch somehow involved—” “Christ, no!” Running frustrated fingers through his hair he paced away from her, needing to fill his eyes with something other than the bounty of her glorious skin, and then back toward her, already craving the sight of it. How often since they met had he secretly fantasized? How much torment had this woman already caused
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