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... the air as they scrambled to clutch the duvet, shielding their exposed bodies. In the split second before the covers hid them, Jason’s sharp eyes caught every detail—the woman’s porcelain skin, her curvaceous figure, lips so full they practically begged to be kissed. It was Annie, Wesley’s wife, her beauty undeniable even in her panic. But the man beside her? No glasses, no scholarly air. Instead, a rugged figure with brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and a black mamba tattoo coiling up his muscu ...
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