Evie swallowed hard and tried to stiffen her knees, which seemed inclined to buckle. Cold dread weighted her stomach as she glanced at the bed. "Are we going to..." she started to ask, her voice turning scratchy.St. Vincent began on the front fastenings of her gown. "Are we going to..." he repeated, and followed her gaze to the bed. "Good God, no." His fingers moved rapidly along her bodice, freeing the row of buttons. "Delectable as you are, my love, I'm too tired.
-Lisa Kleypas
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