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“We do.” She shivered as he ran the rag across her arm and then let it drop back into the bowl of water. “Would you rather be there?”
“No. I just…I don’t understand how I can be here…in your house. This is your house, right?”
“It is.” His eyes were softer than normal. Maybe it was the lighting…or maybe she was delirious. “I might have paid off a guard or two.”
She scoffed. Not that she wasn’t grateful to be in this comfortable bed, but the idea of him spending his money to keep her close was ludicrous. “And how much did I cost?”
“Do you want the real answer or do you want me to say something absurd like you’re priceless to me?” He placed a hand over his heart and tilted his head affectionately.
Ali grumbled some expletives, and he laughed. “Are you hungry?”
“Oh my god, yes.” Her stomach growled right on cue despite the nausea churning there.
“I’ve got some soup on the stove right now.” His voice was low and sultry and penetrated her bones. What an odd twist of fate that had led them to sharing this intimate moment together. She should get sick more often.
“Sounds perfect.” An invasive thought crossed her mind. She didn’t know when she’d get this chance again. “Do you cook?”
He tilted his head, and the sunlight hit his exquisite jawline in a new way. He was stunningly gorgeous, especially in this light and in this room. “I do.”
“What’s your favorite color?” she pressed. She’d start with the easy questions.
His lips turned up in amusement. “It’s green.”
He said nothing else. He was waiting for her. Playing her game.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
Only two years older than her.
“Do you live here alone?”
“Are you planning on sneaking in and killing me?” he responded playfully.
She squinted her eyes and waited for his legitimate response.
“Yes, Ali, I live here alone. Does that surprise you?” He chuckled, and the sound was music to her ears.
“Maybe a little. Truthfully, I expected a playboy like you to have a woman to come home to.” It was hard to believe a man this attractive was sleeping alone every night.
He scoffed. “What makes you think I’m a playboy?”
“Aren’t you?” He’d been chasing after her so ferociously, she had assumed he was like that with all the women.
He shook his head and gave her that penetrating glare. He leaned in closer to her and whispered darkly, “No, I don’t bring women home to bed. I’ve saved that position for you.” He winked and goosebumps covered her body. Then he leaned back again and eyed the ground thoughtfully.
It took a moment before she found her voice again.
“What about siblings? Parents?”
She loved that he wasn’t stopping her. Her brain was racing with questions to ask next.
He swallowed, and she watched his throat bob. “No siblings. My parents are both dead.”
Same, she thought, but she didn’t want to ruin the mood. Not when she was opening him up like a book.
“Why did you become a jailor?”
