Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Another sharp burst of desire darted through me. That was the absolute last thing I needed to be reminded of. “As if that has anything to do with knowing you.”
“True,” he murmured, an amused half grin forming on his mouth.
I folded an arm over my waist. “How did you even know which chambers were mine? Better yet, how did you get in here? The door was locked.”
One side of his lips curved up. “Do you think a simple lock can prevent me from being where I want to be?”
My stomach dipped. “Well, that is somewhat . . . creepy.”
“Maybe.” He was clearly unbothered by that fact. “As to how I knew which quarters were yours, I have my ways.”
I stared at him. “At the risk of sounding repetitive— ”
“What I just said was also somewhat . . .” The tilt to his lips was now daring. “Creepy.”
“Yes.” My fingers went to the little red bow at the neckline of my chemise. “But I can see that even though you’re aware of being creepy, that hasn’t stopped you.”
“It hasn’t.”
“Well, I suppose being aware of your troublesome behavior is one half of the battle.”
“It would only be a battle if I found my behavior to be troublesome.”
“At least you’re honest,” I muttered, twisting the ribbon.
“One of us has to be.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure what you’re insinuating.”
“You’re not?” He set the glass of whiskey he’d helped himself to onto the small end table.
“No.” I feigned a yawn as I eyed him. His body was reclined in an almost arrogant sprawl. My gaze went to his hand, and immediately I thought of his hand slipping beneath the water. A taut curl low in my belly followed.
“What are you thinking about, na’laa?”
“Stop calling me that. And I wasn’t thinking of anything.”
“Would you get mad if I said you were lying?”
“Yes, but I have a feeling that’s not going to stop you.”
“It’s not.” That half smile remained. “Your pulse picked up and it was not fear or anger that caused it. It was arousal.”
Inhaling sharply, I resisted the urge to pick up a pillow and throw it at him. “And so what if it was? You should be used to it, being what you are. It’s just a . . . a natural reaction to your presence, not one I can control.”
“Oh, na’laa,” he chuckled. “I do enjoy your lies.”
“What? I’m not lying.”
“But you are. What you speak of sounds more of a compulsion, and that is not what this is. Our presence doesn’t incite what’s not already there,” he told me. “It doesn’t force you to feel pleasure if you were not already open to doing so. It simply heightens whatever is already there.”
I snapped my mouth shut.
He raised a brow. “Your response to me isn’t something to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not.” I shifted again, putting weight on my right hand. Wincing at the flare of pain, I jerked my hand from the bed.
“Sure.” He rose to his full height.
I tensed, fingers stilling on the ribbon. My pulse was pounding, every part of me wholly aware of how his stare hadn’t left me from the moment I’d awakened. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“Why?” he questioned as he approached the bed. He didn’t so much walk as he did prowl. “Would your baron become upset?”
“No, he would not, but that’s beside the point. I didn’t invite you in here.”
“I did knock,” he said, stopping at the side of the bed. “You didn’t answer, and I’m glad to hear he wouldn’t be displeased.”
I ignored the last comment. “Then you decided— what? To come right in?”
“Obviously,” he murmured, gaze dropping to the length of my leg. “Then I decided to allow you to sleep. You looked . . . so peaceful.” His stare lifted to mine. “I’m assuming that you want me to apologize for entering without permission. To recognize that I’ve overstepped boundaries.”
“That would be a good start,” I retorted. “But I have the distinct impression that you’re not going to.”
His answer was a close-lipped grin. “I’m going to let you in on something you’re not quite willing to admit. You don’t find my behavior to be all that troublesome.”
I swallowed. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m never wrong, remember?”
“I remember you saying that.” Heart thrumming, I watched him sit on the edge of the bed, beside me. “But I also remember finding it unlikely that anyone can never be wrong.”
“You might be annoyed that I let myself in,” he said, planting his hand on the other side of my legs.
“Might?”
One side of his lips curled up. “Okay, you are annoyed, but you do not find my presence here troublesome at all.”
The breath I took was full of that soft, woodsy scent that I still couldn’t quite place. “I must admit, Your Grace, that I’m disappointed in you.”
“Thorne,” he corrected yet again. “And how have I disappointed you?”