Page 94

“Thank you,” he said. “But gray washes me out.”

“Put them on.” I procured a blouse, a pinafore, and a pair of black moccasins. “We work here now.”

“That wasn’t the plan.”

“Plans are made to be broken.”

“You mean rules.”

“Those, too,” I said, and he chuckled. I glanced around to find him watching me with a peculiar expression. “What?” I asked.

His smile softened. “I think this might just be my favorite side of you.”

My heart skipped. Because this side of me—the side that thrived on adventure—was one I had only ever felt comfortable enough to share with Tari.

And now, apparently, with Keil.

I buried the warm, fluttery sensation and raised a brow. “Do you know which of your sides is my favorite?” I asked sweetly. “The quiet one. Now turn around.”

He did as I commanded, his smile taking on an edge of mischief.

The moment his back was turned, I faltered. The task of undressing with Keil only three feet away seemed suddenly impossible. But with a deep breath, I lowered the straps of my dress and let the silk slide down my body. It landed in a puddle at my feet, and I was left standing in my barely there undergarments and the thigh pouch, the air from the open window raising goose bumps on my skin.

My heart drummed as I fumbled with the clothes in such a nervous frenzy that I tripped on the silk. I yelped, grabbing a rack to steady myself.

“Need some help over there?” Keil asked.

“No!” I held the pinafore to my chest. “Stay where you are.”

Though he didn’t turn, I could sense his wicked grin.

It was only once I fastened the pinafore buttons that I exhaled. “All right. I’m done.”

He turned, then looked me over. “Very nice, but I’ll miss the dress.” That little dimple winked in his cheek as he started undoing his shirt buttons. “Although I quite like the look of it on the floor.”

My face flushed, and I spun so fast that I nearly knocked myself off-balance again.

“Don’t peek,” Keil said with an air of challenge.

There was a whisper of material, and I imagined his shirt falling to the floor. Then the clink of a belt, and I knew he must have removed his trousers, too.

The room became suffocating, filling with my too-quick breaths.

“Should I narrate my progress?” he drawled.

“That depends.” Astonishingly, my words held steady. “Do you want to leave this room with your tongue still attached?”

He laughed under his breath. “Of course, my lady.” His voice deepened, as warm and sultry as the summer sun. “I can assure you that cutting it off would be a monumental waste.”

My knees weakened at the memory of that tongue, trailing warm kisses down my neck, and I had to stare at a scratch on the wall to rid my body of its prickling heat.

Another excruciating minute passed. “Aren’t you finished yet?”

“Oh, I finished five seconds ago. I was just lapping up this delightful reaction.”

I swiveled, scowling, and shoved him out the door.

A short corridor led us into the smoky heart of Draker House, whose atmosphere jingled and glittered like a coin purse ready to split at the seams. Keil and I merged among the staff, our masks still in place, until he nodded toward a suited man lingering outside a wooden door.