“But I am.” Merrick’s gravelly response made her sway, and he had to steady her when she stared up at him. “You… you’re what?” Lessia asked, that lightheadedness returning when Merrick tugged at her hand, turning her back toward the dance floor. “Dancing.” “But…” Lessia frowned at him, bringing them both to a halt. “You don’t dance.” She must be drunker than she’d thought. Merrick laughed, a rough, quiet laugh. “I’ll make an exception.”
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