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She considered slipping her hand past his waistband to torment him, but before she could act on the treacherous thought, she went sailing to his bed. Stunned, Laney gasped.

Overhead, Bridger yanked off his shirt, thoroughly distracting her from the shock of the fall. Shirtless, he was a delectable sight to behold. Tan and strong from years of sun and surf, the well-formed muscles of his torso rippled when he moved, drawing her eye south to the trail of dark hair leading straight to sin.

She couldn’t get there fast enough.

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