There had better be a sofa or you’re toast.
‘Right.’
Angelique looked up at him and Remy realised he’d spoken aloud. ‘Pardon?’ she said.
‘How’s your headache?’
She looked at him blankly for a moment. ‘My...? Oh yes; terrible. Absolutely excruciating.’ She put a hand to her temple again. ‘I’m getting blurred vision and I think I’m seeing an aura.’
‘We’d better get you to bed, then.’
The words dropped into the silence, suspended there, echoing with erotic undercurrents that were impossible to ignore.
‘To sleep,’ Remy said. ‘Just in case you were getting the wrong idea.’ Like his body had. It was already hard. Getting harder. Deep breath.
She angled her head at him suspiciously. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re playing with me?’
He wanted to play with her all right. His body said yes but his mind kept saying no, or at least it was saying no so far. But how long would he be able to keep his hands off her? Theoretically she was the last woman in the world he wanted anything to do with. She was too high-maintenance. Too wild.
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