“I think we need to establish some ground rules,” Zylah said, eyeing the canna cake as her stomach unceremoniously broke the silence and hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt. Holt threw her a cake, and Zylah shoved her clothes under her arm just in time to catch it. “Fine. Rule number one, no more touching Zylah’s undergarments,” Holt said, biting into a cake to hide his smirk.
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