casey (ink drinker)

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The way he touched her was a revelation – like it was a privilege, like there was no response her body could give that would ever be wrong. Some part of her could not quite wholly believe in it and stayed always wary, a corner of her mind alert to danger, a hand that would not let go the blade. But all that mattered was the pleasure of the moment, with no yesterday and no tomorrow. Everything felt far away. Only he felt real.
Desire Lines (Welsh Blades, #3)
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