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... barrassing, compromising position, his knees planted on either side of Clyde’s thighs. The moment he realised how close they were, how his bare skin brushed against Clyde’s pyjama pants, his face heated instantly.
Clyde’s hands rested at his waist, fingers hovering above the curve of his hips, not high enough to be innocent and not low enough to be ignored. The towel around Micah’s waist, already loose from the earlier struggle, had slid even lower, clinging to him only by grace and fric ...
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