I kissed, ever so gently, each of those smooth hollows, like tiny shallow cups in his skin. It had kept us dangerously low. I wouldn't advise that, he said, and again I felt the pull of those soft gray eyes, like being wrapped in the warmest of blankets. And the last word was whispered against his chest, still looking up into those eyes, searching his face.
Wicked didn't argue, he just moved around behind his brother, and raised his head and shoulders just enough off the ground. She laughed. I honestly do not know for certain. They gave each other surprised looks.
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