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Boy, he looked good. And we were tucked away in that tiny room, away from prying eyes. We could do anything and no one would ever know about it. We could scream and shout and no one would come running…
“I never got to give you my present,” I said, my voice hoarse in my dry throat.
Was I really doing this?
“You don’t need to get me anything,” he said.
But I already was giving him something, I realized. Something to look at. He barely took his eyes off me.
“I think it’s only right I give you something,” I said. “You are hosting me in this castle. I want to sing for you. Just for you.”
He smiled. Why was it the hottest guys always looked so good no matter what expression was on their face? I was already turning slick down below.
“Okay,” he said. “What will you sing?”
“It’s your birthday,” I said. “So, I’ll sing Happy Birthday.”
“Is it a traditional song?”
“Yes. But the version I’m going to sing for you is probably the most famous version of all.”
I turned away and mussed up my hair. When I turned back, I pouted and did my very best Marilyn Monroe impression.
The transformation over his face was fascinating to behold. He began with confusion—he’d never heard Happy Birthday before or Marilyn Monroe for that matter—and then it morphed into a smile of pleasure… and by the time I came within inches of his lips, he adopted an expression of desperate longing.
It appeared Marilyn Monroe’s sexiness was universal—in every sense of the word.
I stood with my hands on my hips.
“What do you think of that, Mr. Lord?” I said.
With my hip cocked and my dress riding up, I couldn’t have looked more provocative.
Why am I doing this? The mission was over. He wasn’t going to share his loyalties with me, a virtual stranger. I had nothing to gain from kissing him…
And yet it was the only thing I wanted at that moment.
Maybe I wanted to prove to myself I could hook a lord?
But even I didn’t believe that.
It was because I was attracted to him.
He was a handsome Titan and he turned me on. I never faked how attracted I was to him. None of it was an act. I felt certain he thought about me the same way but the memory of his wife kept intruding in his thought process.
His eyes flicked to my lips.
Go on.
Do it.
I want you to.
Please.
Then his eyes flicked over my shoulder.
I didn’t turn to look. I knew no one would be standing there. Instead, I would find nothing but empty air. He would see something, to his eyes, that was very real.
