Tansy smiled, lips trembling, not from fear but from nerves. The good kind. “Looks can be deceiving.” “So, what?” Gemma stood. “Are you saying you aren’t a good girl?” Tansy swallowed hard, watching as Gemma prowled toward her, her dress sweeping the hardwood floor, her smooth steps making it look almost as if she were floating. “In theory or in practice?” Gemma stopped less than a foot in front of Tansy and lifted a hand, bracing her palm against the bookshelf. She boxed Tansy in, enveloping her in the warm scents of vetiver and vanilla and old books. “Have you been thinking dirty thoughts,
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