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That and a very hungry sort of focus.
“Brittany,” he said softly, so softly. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”
“No.”
He laughed at her reply, but the way he watched her with those dark whiskey eyes of his only seemed to deepen. And then expand inside of her. “Can it be? Is it possible?”
The mortification and all that red heat seemed to roll tight inside of her, and she didn’t know what to do with it. Only that if she didn’t dosomething, she’d explode. She fought for some composure—but then came up hard against the far wall of the small, ancient room.
She hadn’t even realized he’d been coming for her, or that she’d backed away from him. All the way across the room.
And now it was too late.
Cairo leaned in close as if he wanted to inhale the fine tremors that moved over her body, one after the next. Then he laid his hands on the cool stone wall, one palm on either side of her head, caging her where she stood.
“Stop lying to me,” he ordered her, in that same quiet voice that did nothing to disguise the fact it was another steel-tipped royal command.
“We’re about to get married for money so we can lead a tabloid life,” she managed to bite out in some semblance of her usual composed, measured tone. “I thought lies were a given.”
“Brittany,” he said, and again, her name in that mouth of hisdid thingsto her she wished she could ignore, “are you the best-disguised and least likely virgin in the whole wide world?”
