I look away, too. There’s so much tension in this small space it’s impossible to discern if he’s lying or not. Nor do I know him well enough to make a guess from his body language.
“I’m supposed to take you at your word?”
“It makes little difference whether or not you believe me.”
The elevator doors slide open, and the relief is instantaneous. Leon steps out promptly, and I follow him into what appears to be the penthouse suit. It’s a gorgeous open-plan space with a window that showcases jaw-dropping views of Manhattan.
Well, at least I married into money.
“Would you like a drink?” Leon calls as he wanders over to the kitchen. It seems someone has taken the liberty of stocking our fridge with champagne.
I make my way over to the window for a better look. “Is there anything stronger?”
He doesn’t reply, but a few minutes later, he’s at my side, handing me a generous glass of whiskey.
I down it in one swallow.
He gives me a long look over the rim of his own glass before placing it down. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Except we do for the marriage to be viable,” I counter.
“No one needs to know.”
It was a good point. A strong point, actually. One I wish I’d thought of.
“Unless you’d secretly like to.”
My eyes snap away from the skyline to find a dirty little smile on his face. It’s the first smile I think I’ve seen him wear.
I’m instantly on the defensive. “I think there are possibly a million things I’d rather do.”
“Am I really so abhorrent to you?” he teases, handing me the rest of his drink to finish.
I see what he’s doing; he’s trying to make me relax. It’s a gesture that I might have considered sweet if we weren’t discussing the possibility of sleeping together when we barely know one another.
“You have…agreeable features,” I concede as I down the rest of his whiskey, too.
“I’ve been told they’re more than agreeable.”
“By who, your mirror?”
Leon chuckles at that. It’s a dark sound, one that does things to my stomach, and I find my heart racing again without my permission.
He steps forward slowly, crowding into my space, and for a moment, I think my heart stops entirely.
But then he merely plucks the glass from my hand and pulls away. I do my best to ignore the way his fingers brush against mine, leaving a trail of heat across my skin.
“You’re fairly agreeable to look at yourself,” he admits as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.
It’s infuriating. “You should see me without the dress on.”
That does it. That gets me the reaction I was craving. The flash of warmth in his eyes I noticed earlier appears again as his head snaps to me.
And then…
I’m suddenly pressed up against the window. The distance between us decreases to a hair’s breadth as his broad chest entirely surrounds me. Rum spice and black pepper and that dirty little smile.
“Would you like that?” His voice is low and thick. Teasing yet sure.
