“Your view on an appropriate amount of clothes is obviously skewed.” His voice was strained. “What are you doing?” I frowned, looking down at my itty-bitty white bikini. “Is it not obvious?” “With you, nothing is.” “I can’t tell if that was a dumb-brunette joke or if I’m so unpredictable it excites you.” I pursed my lips, muttering, “Probably the former, considering you’re as excitable as Jack Frost.”
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