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Summary
“Open your mouth.”
“No.”
“Open your mouth and take it.”
“No,” he rasped, voice a low croak, a graveled slide, the rough backside of a household sponge. Through a film of fresh, unshed tears, lower lip wobbling, she glimpsed the faintest glimmer of obstinance. A quick flash in his eyes. Gone so fast she nearly hadn’t caught it by the tail. A translucent blur across that light brown iris.
/ Or, Linda feeds her sweetheart lunch.