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We’re natural born enemies, and he infuriates me. Especially when he makes me blush.
He robbed my palace and now I’m forced to spend time with him in his cell.
I hate how he’s flirting with me to try and talk his way out of here.
But no matter how I try to ignore his mocking laugh, this dungeon is getting awfully hot.
If he believes I’m going to fall for his charm offensive, he needs to think again.
Those intense gray eyes that turn cloudy when he uses his magic will not affect me.
I need to keep my wits about me around this silver-tongued thief.
Yet all I can think about is the other things he could do with that tongue.
I rely on my walls of professionalism to stop him from getting under my skin.
I know what he’s plotting. I can see right through his game.
I know he’s only cooperating in order to win my trust and eventually escape.
But if I know all of this, then why am I in his cell … in his bed … in his arms …
Have I become the prisoner … of my own prisoner?
