Celia was sprawled lazily on her back, a sea of tangled blankets under her. Her forehead was damp with sweat.
I will not faint. I will not. I've done that before and the knave didn't let me live it down for weeks.
Next to her on the bedchamber floor lay Lucas, equally hot and flushed. She watched his chest rise and fall. He sounded like he was almost wheezing as he fought to get the air into his lungs.
The sound made her laugh. "Listen to you. It's like you've swallowed a little pitch pipe."
"What a cruel thing to say." he muttered. She could see his eyes closing. "Your mockery wounds me deeply, do you know that?"
Celia burst out laughing again as she rolled into his side and cuddled up against him. Her muscles were limp and her throat positively burned after she'd screamed without restraint.