Quote:
Originally Posted by 3894
Mercifully, the moonlight hid the flush in her cheeks. She did not exalt at his male strength, at the cleanliness and beauty in him. He was fixing an old pipe, an actual old pipe. He'd rolled up his sleeves and she'd watched the interplay of sinew as he worked the wrench. It was plumbing and nothing more.
So why did her blood soar with unbidden memories?
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I love it when you do that!
Tell me, tell us, you really are the authoress of a wildly successfull cache of bodice rippers on the shelf at the local library.
