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“Her lips parted. Vaughn nearly died on the spot. He pulled her in. The guitar strummed its protest. Neither of them cared. She had her hand on his neck, the side of her thumb notched under his jaw, forefinger tips pressing into the nape of his neck as if saying, closer, more. He shoved the guitar to the floor, and it clattered against the wood. She broke away, panting. 'Oops.” — Diana Peterfreund
Her lips parted. Vaughn nearly died on the spot. He pulled her in. The guitar strummed its protest. Neither of them cared.
She had her hand on his neck, the side of her thumb notched under his jaw, forefinger tips pressing into the nape of his neck as if saying, closer, more.
He shoved the guitar to the floor, and it clattered against the wood.
She broke away, panting. 'Oops.