“She’s my wife,” the man muttered. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. “No,” she answered. ” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. He perceived, however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in discountenanced these assumptions. “Want one?” Michelle deadpanned. He was completely, devastatingly handsome. “No one has a better right than I to be with you.
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