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... desire, her earlier whispered words – "I am not yet satisfied" – hanging in the air between them like a silken invitation. Her hand, which had been resting on his erection, now began to trace feather-light patterns on his arm, sending little shivers of awareness through him.

He swallowed, his gaze dropping to her inviting lips, then quickly back to her eyes, his mind a battlefield of desire and ingrained caution. "Cassandra," he began, his voice a little hoarse, "my love, we... we can’t ...

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