“You’re wearing your cage again,” he moans into my kiss, a hand sliding between us to curl around me. “Yes,” I manage to say, inhaling as he cups me. Everything is still sticky and hot, and all I want is to push him down onto the moss and then make out with him until we both die of old age. “Please tell me you have your key,” he says. “Please, please—” “It’s back at the guesthouse,” I say, dropping my lips to his jaw. “Aiden,” he groans. “You’re supposed to have it on you all the time.” He pulls back a little and gives me an eyebrow which I think he thinks is stern, even though his lips are
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