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Sunday, September 18, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

Michael stepped forward invading her personal space. Heat radiated from his body and warmed her up from the chill of the air-conditioning.

“Scarlett, I could feel your eyes on me through the whole fight. I could smell you. It was hard to concentrate.”

His voice was low, husky, and before she could stop herself with worry, she reached out and stroked his bare chest with her fingers.

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