McCoy gave her a look and shrugged. She sat onthe sagging couch in the nurses' lounge, running shoes propped up on ablond oak Scandinavian coffee table. Day had yielded to night. She couldn't expect him to feel anything deeper than physical attractionto her.
Pain and fear raked through her, andall she could do was hold her child and pray for hope. She arched beneath him, inviting him, begging him to take thetight bud of her nipple between his lips, crying out as he suckedstrongly at the tender point. Fujiwara no Nakamaro was agrandson of the great Kamatari. Swain, have you been here all evening? she asked.
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