I-I’m not making advances,” she told him as she flattened herself against his chest. β€œYou’re just an available s-source of heat.” β€œSo you say,” St. Vincent replied lazily, tucking the quilt more tightly around them both. β€œHowever, during the past quarter hour you’ve been fondling parts of my anatomy that no one’s ever dared to touch before.” β€œI v-very much doubt that.” She burrowed even further into the depths of his coat, and added in a muffled voice, β€œYou’ve probably been h-handled more than a hamper at Fortnum and Mason.

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