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... lazy, half-hearted excuse that barely counted as resistance. I should have said it clearly, firmly, with my spine straight and my hands at my sides instead of doing this ridiculous thing where I shook my head while still standing close enough to feel his heat.
But Domenico had looked at me like that again.
Like he wasn’t rushing me. Like he had all the time in the world and I was the one who would crack first.
"I don’t need a massage," I said, crossing my arms even as my ...
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