" You’re burning,” she gasped. “Then you ought not to touch me,” he said seriously. “You’ll be consumed.” “Too late,” she muttered, and pivoted, trying to drag him, he presumed, toward the bed. “You’re awfully heavy—” “My soul is made of lead.” “—and you’re delirious,” she ended decisively. “I need to get help. "

― Elizabeth Hoyt , Duke of Desire (Maiden Lane, #12)