She knelt down and undid his trousers, letting them fall.
"We can't."
"We can," she said. Her fingers started working at the buttons of his waistcoat without waiting for permission "And I think I'd like to."
He smiled faintly. "No, we can't."
Mary undid the last button and pulled his waistcoat open.
"James Poole, if you don't get this corset off me, I'm never letting you back into my father's house again."
My dad is dead, and he was murdered. Now I'm all alone, with no answers and a lot of questions.
James Poole seemed like the answer to a lot of them.
He could also be my own fatal mistake. But I can't stop thinking of him... or teasing him.
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