Seven years after walking out of Bridger’s life without explanation, Laney returns, asking if they can talk.
Dipping his head so his lips grazed her ear, he said, “To think I have anything to say is to assume I still give a damn, Laney. And I think I left that behind a long time ago.”
His words were so much at odds with his actions she failed to reconcile the two. Lack of awareness might also be blamed on the hand curling at her nape, the gentle touch drawing her against his chest. Or the heat of his mouth lingering on her flesh, following the coy path his finger trailed across her jaw. Every nuance of touch electrified her, each moment captured in a single thud of her heartbeat.
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