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... ’t answer, Wyatt Sterling tilted her chin up, demanding to know if she was satisfied.
Alice York grabbed his hand. "Third Uncle, you’re drunk."
"Drunk?" Wyatt Sterling’s eyes were exceptionally bright. He lowered his head and kissed the corner of her mouth. "If I were really drunk, how would I know where to find your lips?"
Alice York’s face and heart both burned. Pushing at him, she said, "You need to rest."
The faint push felt more like an invitation than a reje ...
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