“Did it feel good?” he asked, voice quiet. On the floor, Jezebel reached up to paw at his knees. Michelle’s heart thumped when he leaned down to pick up the cat, but she just shrugged and turned back to the sink. “Yeah. Fine.” “Fine?” She bit back a laugh at his aggrieved response. “Maybe more than fine,” she amended. He stared at her for a second longer, then his eyes narrowed, and he said, “Michelle.” Just that. Just her name, in a low growl with a tinge of exasperation and humor, like he was trying not to laugh. He’d said her name like this before, but the growl . . . that was new. She
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