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Sugar Lips

Sicily

Sicily pulled up into the driveway at the house and parked, turning the car off and getting out as the wind picked up. The cold front was almost there and felt great.

How long had she been waiting for the first proper cold front so she could bundle up and hid behind a wall of sweaters? No one could blame a person for looking heavy if they had on ten layers of clothing. Winter was good like that.

Sicily walked to the door, turning at the sound of a motorcycle moving down the street. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she paused and waited for him to turn into the driveway. He parked and pulled off his helmet, his black bomber jacket fitting him tightly as it hugged his slim waist over his stone-washed jeans.

"Got flour on your nose and sugar on your lips?" He winked and walked toward her, slipping the helmet under his arm.

"No, thankfully. I try not to be nearly the mess I was when I first started. Besides, you don't like sugar, so I'm thinking if I was hoping for a goodnight k
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