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... ckened. His presence alone could strip the room of warmth, the way frost steals breath from a windowpane.

His fingers rose—not gentle, not cruel, merely used to things he was about to do—and brushed the column of her throat.

He touched her as a scholar might trace the margin of an ancient text, studying the slight quiver beneath her skin.

There, beneath his thumb, her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird. The sound of it echoed inside him, each beat a distant drum stirring ...

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