He pushes away from the wall and strolls toward me. “Clearly, I've discovered your fatal flaw.”
“I trust you won't use it against me.”
“No promises.”
I glance toward the spread of food on the counter. “Your doing, I assume?”
“Some of it.”
“Experimenting with more recipes?”
“Always.”
“You've been busy.”
He shrugs. “We're expecting emissaries from several of our allied regions today. Lots of careful words and stressful meetings in the afternoon ahead. So, I thought I'd distract myself in the meantime, and maybe come up with something our chefs could recreate to bribe our visitors with. Two birds, one stone.”
“You're nervous about these meetings?”
He puts a finger to his lips. “No one is supposed to know the King of Mouren panics, remember?”
“Right.” I recall that day he carried me to his room in a panic—the night we spent together in bed—and an involuntary rush of heat sweeps all the way through me, prickling my scalp and curling my toes. “We have to keep up your reputation as a purely vile, murderous ruler.”
He inclines his head in agreement, giving me a slight smile, before his eyes dart to something behind me. “And, speaking of keeping up appearances, we seem to be gathering an audience.”
I glance over my shoulder to see a sight that's becoming familiar by now: two servants pretending to be occupied with something nearby, when it's very obvious they're just trying to get a closer look at whatever the king and I are doing together.
I tilt my face toward Reave. “Should I be standing closer to you, to make our pretend courtship more convincing?”
He quirks a brow. “Something tells me you want to stand closer to me, anyhow.”
“Arrogance is so very unattractive in a man.”
“Then it's a good thing I have so many other attractive qualities to make up for it, hm?”
I shoot him an unimpressed look…and yet Iammoving closer to him, as though pulled in by some annoying, unseen force.
“You should try showing me those other attractive qualities some time,” I say. “It would make faking a relationship with you much more bearable.” I keep my voice low and smile with the words, all while smoothing my fingers over the front of his shirt—a perfect show for anyone watching us from a distance.
“It's probably better for you in the long run if you continue to find me unbearable,” he replies.
“Probably so.”
“The more insufferable I am, the better.”
“So far, so good. You’re a natural at being insufferable, really.”
This draws a crooked smile from him, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes; he seems distracted even as he catches my hand, threading his fingers through mine to stop their roaming.
I wonder if there's more bothering him than just the upcoming meetings he mentioned.
I wonder why I care so much, either way. So much that I don't try to pull away when our gazes meet and I see something terrifyingly close toneedshimmering in his eyes.
Another involuntary wave of heat rolls through me, making me draw in a sharp breath. He squeezes my fingersin what feels like a primal response, drawing me toward him with a possessive little tug.
“You’re blushing, I notice, despite my lack of attractive qualities.” He leans his mouth closer and whispers, “That's very interesting.”
“Insufferable man,” I mutter.
