’ ‘Back?’ Melusine put a hand to her aching temple. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. ” She replied. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms.
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