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“You never ‘ask.’ And you never say anything more than once. We dictate the terms, not them. I hope I never have to remind you again.”
“Only apologize when you know you’ve done something wrong. And only to the right people.”
But the memory of Vivian’s glow and the huskiness of her voice bothered Jules all day. For some damn reason.
Mostly she realized she desperately wanted to have sex with Vivian Carlisle, and it felt like every day they’d known each other had just been building up to this moment.
Well, out of all the things she’d lost in London, including her hairbrush, her common sense, and her sanity, it was nice to get at least one of them back.
“People who are part of my personal life,” Vivian said, her cheeks going a little red, “people like that—these people aren’t replaceable. And I don’t ‘throw them away.’”
“As I was saying,” Vivian continued, her voice lower, “you feel more than friendship. So do I. I don’t see the point in pretending otherwise.”
“There’s more than one way to be happy, Julia.” Now Vivian’s gaze was hypnotic, overwhelming, all-encompassing. “Let me show you. Let me make you happy.”
“Cancel the plan,” Vivian growled between kisses. Through the thin silk of her pajamas, Jules could feel how hot her skin already was. “You wanted this, you did this to me, and you’d better be ready to deal with it.”
“Don’t get sentimental on me, Julia.” But then she took Jules’s hand. Her thumb rubbed over the knuckles. The morning light softened her eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jules whispered. The sudden warmth in her chest was enough to banish the cold, no matter what she wore. Together, their hands came to rest against the curve of Vivian’s belly. “Good.” Vivian squeezed Jules’s hand. “That’s the last thing I need.” “I think we’ve already got what we need.” “Do we? This isn’t going to be easy.” Vivian’s tone left no room for argument. “This is going to be the furthest thing from easy.” “I know,”
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