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He handed her the miniature key and her embarrassingly shaky fingers got even more embarrassing as she tried to fit the metal sliver into the first lock.
“Relax.” He drew warm fingers over the skin of her shoulder exposed by her sweater’s wide neckline, slid them to the back of her neck and massaged lightly.
“Touching me is not going to make me relax.”
“No?”
“No.” She was whispering again. His fingers were strong and skillful and incredibly arousing.
The key didn’t work in the first drawer. She took a breath, pressing back against his fingers, and moved it to the second. He walked around behind her, spread his hands on her shoulders and made glorious circles of pressure with his thumbs in the middle of her back where all her tension collected.
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