Her small round breasts were vulnerable under her mostly nonfunctional Kmart bikini bra. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. I want you beyond measure or reckoning. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. ‘We’ll have you right out of the way, just in case.
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