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Summary
She sat up with a sigh, tugging the silk sheet tighter around her chest. Sevika, still half-sprawled and shirtless, propped herself up on one elbow, eyes roaming over Mel’s chest.
“You look good like that,” she muttered. “Little marked up. And’a little pissed at me.”
Or: Sevika has a biting promblem, and now it’s become Mel’s promblem.
