“How would you design a house for two people with heights as different as ours?”
She huffed out a laugh, her stomach doing an uncomfortable twist. “Well, obviously when it comes to space, preference has to be given to the taller person so they don’t feel like things are closing in on them.”
He nodded, his expression mock-serious. “Definitely.”
“Mostly, with a family,” she said, “which I design for quite a bit, I try to keep things mostly standard in height, with little modifications here and there that feel personal and special and useful to everyone.”
“Very nice. Good deflection.”
“I wasn’t deflecting.”
He crossed his arms, his gaze far too assessing. “You seemed uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“You would want space for a big bed.”
“I would?” Her brain blanked. Hollowed out completely.
“If you were designing a room for a man my size. Even if the woman was small.”
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I suppose so.”
“But then, I figure there’s never a drawback to a big bed.”
“I have a referral I can give you for custom furniture,” she said, ignoring the way her heart was thundering at the base of her throat, imagining all the things that could be done in a very large bed.
In gauzy terms. Seeing as she had no actual, real-world experience with that.
“I may take you up on that offer,” he said, his words like a slow drip of honey.
“Well, good. That’s just...great. It’s a custom...sex palace.” She pretended to write something down, all while trying to hide the fact her face was burning.
“No matter what it sounds like,” he said, “I’m not actually asking you for a glorified brothel. Though, I’m not opposed to that being a use. But I want this house to be for me. And I want it to be without limits. I’m tired of being limited.”
Her heart twisted. “Right. I—I understand.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and went to move past him, but he spoke again, and his voice made her stop, directly in front of him. “I shared a cell with, at minimum, one other person for the last five years. Everything was standard. Everything. And then sized down. Dirty. Uncomfortable. A punishment. I spent five years being punished for something I didn’t do.”
She tilted up her face, and realized that she was absurdly close to him. That she was a breath away from his lips. “Now you need your reward.”
“That I do.”
His voice went low, husky. She felt...unsteady on her feet. Like she wanted to lean in and press her lips to his.
She should move. She was the one who had placed herself right there in front of him. She was the one who had miscalculated. But she wasn’t moving. She was still standing there. She couldn’t seem to make herself shift. She licked her lips, and she saw his gaze follow the motion. His eyes were hot again.
And so was she. All over.
She was suddenly overcome by the urge to reach out her hand and touch that scar that marred his chin. The other one that slashed through his lip.
To push her hand beneath his shirt and touch that scar he had shown her earlier.
That thought was enough to bring her back to earth. To bring her back to her senses.
She took a step back, a metallic tang filling her mouth. Humiliation. Fear.
“You know,” he said slowly, “they lock men like me up. That’s a pretty good indication you should probably keep your distance.”
