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... eavy, almost humming with something that neither of them wanted to name. Micah was leaning against the counter, his palm pressed flat against the cold marble edge. His breath came a little unevenly. Clyde stood close, his hand resting lightly at the back of Micah’s neck. His head was lowered, close enough for Micah to feel his breath on his cheek.
"Were you that jealous?" Clyde whispered, voice rough with something darkly amused.
Micah’s brows knitted. "Me?" he scoffed, his tone ...
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