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She pursed her lips ruefully. Adorably. He was even more affected, and even worse, right now he didn’t mind. “Are you really going to make me say it?” she demanded, a hint of laughter in her voice as well as vulnerability. Both made him ache.

“I suppose I am,” he replied, keeping her gaze. An excitement was licking through his veins, as well as an energy. He wanted her to say it. Because once she did, there would be no going back, and maybe that would be better for them both. Maybe if they talked about it…they would actually do something. Even if it would be dangerous, complicated and stupid. Right now he didn’t care.

“Fine.” Her cheeks had turned red now, and she took a breath as if to steel herself. “I don’t think I’m imagining the—the attraction between us. Maybe I’m seriously embarrassing myself right now, but I… I don’t believe it’s one-sided.” Her cheeks were fiery now, her voice rising to a squeak as she finished, “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

The smart, if cruel, thing to do, Christos knew, would be to correct her. To tell her he was very sorry, but he’d experienced this sort of schoolgirl crush before. Women who became overwhelmed with his position and power and lost their heads, started to believe in something that simply wasn’t there. He should say something, anything, to deny what he knew just as well as she did that was pulsing to life between them, right in this very moment, like an electric current of desire and need. It had been there since the beginning, but it was certainly sparking now.

He held her gaze as her lips parted and her breath came out in a tiny pant. “Christos…” she prompted unevenly, her wide gaze fixed on his as she searched his face for some clue of what he was thinking. Feeling.

He laid his hand flat on the table, refusing to break her questioning gaze as he answered her in a low voice. “You’re not wrong.”

* * *

You’re not wrong.

The words seemed to reverberate through the taut air, clanging like a bell inside her. Rose touched her tongue to her lips, her mind spinning, her stomach dipping. She felt wonderfully, electrically alive…and also terrified of what might come next. She’d told herself that she was bold enough to beard this particular lion and brave out a discussion about the desire she’d come, incredulously, to believe was shared, but it had felt painfully revealing to do so. Now that he’d confirmed it, she had no idea what to say or do next. She’d used up all of her sparky courage, and now she felt completely at sea.

“Okay,” she finally said, and her voice wobbled. Christos laughed softly, the sound like a caress as he leaned forward, his eyes glinting gold with amusement.

“You did not expect me to agree?”

“I guess I didn’t,” she admitted. Moments ago she’d felt daring and desirable and rebellious, but also like she was playing a game. Now the realization that he was attracted to her was starting to fizz through her like the finest champagne, overwhelming her senses. This gorgeous, powerful and wealthy guy, a freaking count, was attracted to little old her. She almost wanted to laugh at the sheer, amazing absurdity of it.

“So what now?” she asked unsteadily, bracing herself for some kind of put-down, because this really did feel ridiculous. Surely they couldn’t act on this attraction, and Christos would list the million reasons why…although right now, with him giving her a long, heavy-lidded look, Rose couldn’t think of a single reason they shouldn’t.

“I admit, this is both unexpected and inconvenient,” he remarked as he took a sip of water, holding her gaze over the rim of his glass. “And it could very well complicate things in a way neither of us would like or appreciate. In fact, it almost certainly will.” He paused, seeming to wait for her reply, and Rose nodded jerkily.

“Yes… I can see that.” At least, she sort of could. Even so, she couldn’t quite believe they were having this conversation. It felt like they were talking about the weather, except of course they absolutely weren’t. They were talking about doing things to one another…things that felt hazy and yet all of a sudden entirely possible, sliding hands and questing lips and…

Oh. Rose shifted in her seat, recrossing her legs as a blush swept over her body and desire swam through her veins like honey, making her molten at her center.

“But,” Christos continued, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, his golden-brown gaze roving slowly over her, leaving the heat of awareness in its wake, like gooseflesh but hot, “the fact that we have acknowledged it might make it easier to resist…if that is what we choose to do.”

She stared at him, trying to figure out what he was—or wasn’t—saying. If that is what we choose to do. Was he implying that there was a choice in the matter…and that choice was hers? Could she be that bold, that wanton?

“If…if we choose to,” she repeated dazedly. She was having troubling stringing two syllables together, never mind two words, her mind spinning with vague, low-lighted scenarios that made her stomach clench hard with anticipation. “What…what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” he challenged softly. Rose simply stared at him as he continued in the same soft, languorous voice, “Is there any reason not to act,” he asked, sounding as if he were asking himself as much as her, “on what we feel, if we both acknowledge the parameters, and that there will be no hard feelings when it ends?”

When it ends. The words thudded through Rose, making her blink, a cold-water dose of reality after all these swirling scenarios. Of course it was going to end. She understood that. And yet…somehow, when he said it so matter-of-factly, a foregone conclusion that did not even need to be debated or discussed, it hurt. Stupidly, but still. She’d had enough rejection in her life already. She’d had enough of people telling her when it would end.

“Rose?” he queried, and now there was a slight hint of concern, and maybe censure, in his voice that made her feel even more jumbled up.

“Sorry,” she said, trying for a laugh that came out a little wobbly. “I’m not quite as au fait as you are with the etiquette of having an affair. If that is in fact what we’re discussing?” To her credit, she held his gaze and even managed to arch one eyebrow in semi-sardonic query, like she was as experienced as he was in matters not of the heart but of the body. It was obvious that despite her earlier daydreaming, this was going to an entirely physical transaction, if it happened at all.

“We’re discussing acting on our attraction,” he replied a little curtly, seeming like he was already regretting putting it on the table, “and nothing more.”

There was a whole lot of warning in those words, Rose thought as she swallowed another incredulous laugh. Well, fine. She was a grown-up. She could handle this. She wanted to handle this, even if she’d never handled anything remotely like this before.

“So, not an affair?” she queried, her eyebrow arching higher. “You object to that word for some reason?”

“I don’t object,” Christos replied, and now he definitely sounded curt. “I just want to be clear.”

“I think you’re clear,” Rose assured him. “This is a no-strings situation. The last thing either of us need is some kind of emotionally complicated factor in what is obviously an already emotionally complicated situation. Trust me, I understand that. I agree with it.” At least, in theory she did. Her stupid, stumbling heart seemed determined to feel something else, but she’d do her best not to let it have its way.

“As long as we’re on the same page,” Christos said, his tone managing to convey both wry humor and warning, his gaze probing hers as if testing it for weaknesses.

“Oh, we are,” Rose replied a little sharply. Then, defiantly, feeling both strangely hurt and stupidly bold, she met his eyes, daring him to do something about it.