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“I didn’t realize that was such a violent activity?”
My lips pressed together. “It’s normally not.”
“And how did you bruise your wrist while gardening?”
“I don’t know. I already told you I wasn’t even aware that it had happened.” Frustration rose, and I scooted back, away from him. Swinging my legs off the bed, I stood. “And why do you even care?”
Prince Thorne angled his body toward me, and the moment he faced me, I realized that standing wasn’t exactly the brightest move. I stood in the filtered beams of sunlight, and I might as well be nude.
His gaze strayed from mine then and drifted lower, over the sleeves and lace he’d straightened. The tips of my breasts tingled, hardening under his stare. A heated shiver followed his gaze over the curve of my waist and the swell of my hip.
I could’ve moved to cover myself, but I didn’t, and it had nothing to do with him already seeing me without a stitch of clothing twice now.
It was the same reason as last night. I . . . I wanted him to look.
And he did as he tipped forward and rose. He looked for so long that muscles all along my body began to tighten in . . . in heady anticipation.
The urge came again, the one that goaded me to turn and take flight, knowing that he would chase. But it was more. I wanted that. Him to chase.
The colors of his eyes were moving again, the stars brightening. Shadows formed in the sudden hollows of his cheeks, and it could have been my imagination, but I thought hewantedto give chase.
All of that sounded . . . insane to me. I didn’t want to be chased or . . . orcapturedby anyone, especially not a prince.
Trembling, I held myself completely still. When I spoke, I barely recognized my voice. “I asked why you cared?”
Prince Thorne didn’t respond for a long moment, and then he inhaled deeply, the tension leaking from his body and . . . and then mine. “Why would I care about some lowborn girl who pretends at being a courtesan— ”
“I’m not agirl,” I interrupted, irritated by him— by me. “And that is something you should be well aware of.”
“You are correct.” His gaze swept over me in a languid perusal, and the right side of his lips curved up. “My apologies.”
I stiffened at the low, sultry drawl. “That sounded more like innuendo than an apology.”
“Probably because the flush in your cheeks when perturbed reminds me of the same flush of when you come,” he said, and my mouth dropped open. “I would apologize for that also, but I have a feeling that too would sound like an innuendo.”
“Oh my gods,” I hissed. “You are . . .”
“What?” The colors of his eyes were churning again. “Captivating to you? I know. There’s no need to tell me.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
“Whatever you say,na’laa,” he murmured.
My hands curled into fists.
His faint grin faded as he glanced at the terrace doors. A moment passed. “You asked why I care?” His brows knitted. “There is this . . . feeling that I know you. It’s this strange sensation that we’ve met before.”
The wordswe havecrept up my throat, but I couldn’t get them past my lips. The want for him to know that we had battled with the warning that doing so could be a mistake. I froze in confusion, not understanding either response.
“Other than that?” The line of his jaw tensed. “I really don’t know. You shouldn’t matter.”
I blinked. “Wow.”
“You misunderstand.”
The Prince wasn’t the only one feeling strange sensations. Currently, there was something akin to the sting of . . . of rejection burning at my insides. “No, I think that was pretty clear.”
He turned to me. “I don’t mean that personally, Calista.”
