His other hand settles on my hip, thumb brushing against bare skin. "Tell me. Are you faking this response? Or do you actually want my hands on you?"
"I'm an excellent actress," I say smoothly, even as my pulse hammers against his fingertips. "The real question is whether you can tell the difference."
His eyes narrow. "You're saying this is all performance?"
"I'm saying men are apparently remarkably easy to fool when it comes to female arousal. A few gasps, some well-timed responses, and they believe whatever they want to believe."
"And what about me? Can I tell?"
"What do you think?" I let my breathing hitch slightly, perfectly calculated. "Am I really affected by your touch, or am I just showing you how easy it would be to convince your buyers?"
His grip tightens on my throat. "You're playing me again."
"I'm demonstrating my new skills. I’m a fast learner. Isn't that what this is for?" I lean into his touch slightly, making it look like desire rather than strategy. "Any buyer would believe I want everything he's doing to me."
He stares at me for a long moment, some internal war playing out behind his eyes. Then his hand slides from my throat to cup my breast, and I have to fight to keep my reaction perfectly controlled—just enough response to seem genuine, not enough to reveal how much his touch actually affects me.
His thumb brushes across my nipple, and I bite back a moan.
"The anticipation is often more powerful than the actual touch," he says, his other hand sliding lower.
He proves his point by trailing his fingers along my inner thigh without actually touching where I want him most. The tease sends fire racing through my veins.
"Tell me what you want," he commands.
"I want..." I struggle to form coherent thoughts with his hands on me. "I want you to stop pretending this is just training."
"That’s all it is."
"This is you wanting me so badly you can barely control yourself." I lean forward slightly, bringing my mouth close to hisear. "This is you teaching me how to please a man while trying not to admit that you're the man I want to please."
"You need to understand the stakes here. The auction is happening if the debt isn’t paid. You will be sold to the highest bidder." His hands don't retreat from my body. "The sooner you accept that reality, the better off you’ll be."
The cold certainty in his voice shakes my confidence.
"Then why does this feel like more than just training?"
"Because you want it to be more." His thumb brushes across my nipple again. "You're looking for salvation that doesn't exist."
He leans down and presses his lips to the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. Not a kiss exactly, more like a claim. His breath is warm against my skin as he trails lower.
"Al-Rashid likes to mark his acquisitions," he murmurs against my throat. "He wants to see evidence of submission."
His teeth graze my earlobe, and I can't suppress the shiver that runs through me.
"Yes," he says, satisfaction evident in his voice. "That's the kind of response he'll expect."
"It's just a physical reaction," I manage to say, though my voice isn't as steady as I'd like.
"Is it?" His mouth moves to the other side of my neck, and this time he does bite—gently, but with enough pressure to make me gasp.
His hands settle on my waist, thumbs brushing against my ribs just below my breasts. The touch is maddeningly light, designed to tease rather than satisfy.
"Tell me what you want," he commands softly.
"I want..." The words stick in my throat because what I want and what I should want are two very different things.
"You want what, Camilla?" His lips brush against my ear as he speaks. “More training?”
