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“No.” Crossing her arms underneath her breasts, she shifted in her seat until her both her knees and her nose were pointed toward the passenger-side window. She looked like a proper nineteenth-century schoolmarm, except that he was 99 percent sure that she wasn’t wearing any panties underneath her skintight jeans, and, if he stood over her at just the right angle, he could see down the front of her sweater. Her breasts were freckled, too, and bubbling out of the top of her bra in a way that was anything but proper.
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