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The morning light felt like an accusation on her stinging skin. When he entered her room without knocking, a tray in his hands, her humiliation was fresh. He set the coffee down, his gaze not on her face but on the chair she couldn't bring herself to sit on. His touch, when it came, was not to punish but to assess—a proprietor checking his property, and the shiver it drew was worse than the spank.
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