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Two Hundred-Sixty-Eight

When I wake, I am wrapped tightly within Zachariah’s arms and he has nothing on other than his boxers, allowing my hands to slide effortlessly over the skin and muscles of his chest. I smile as I feel and then hear the low rumble of his growl as he slowly wakes. He tightens his arms, pulling me closer as I look up and into his now-open eyes.

I then lift my head as much as I can and look around. However, I don’t see who I am looking for. I let my head fall back to my pillow, which happens to be his arm, and whisper,

“Where is Darius?”

“I put him to bed not long after you fell asleep on me.”

I smile, “So that is why my hands are touching bare skin instead of the t-shirt you were wearing before.”

“Yeah, well, when I returned you seemed to be in one of your nightmares again and I climbed in wearing my clothes. You tried to hit me, so I stripped. I allowed you to feel my skin and the tingles and spar

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