He grinned. “Exactly.”
Her eyes narrowed and she suddenly shifted.
Before he could puzzle out what that meant, her legs captured his—decisive, firm, unmistakable. The same way he’d done to her at Hyde Park. Bishop froze, half because the movement had stolen every coherent thought, and half because, for once, he didn’t know what in the devil’s name to do, surprise flashing through him before it gave way to something else entirely—heat, swift and consuming.
And straight to his cock.
The little temptress. She was doing this on purpose.
She grinned at him, her left knee rubbing against his.
His mind went blank. Entirely blank.
“Nothing to say?” She leaned forward, closing half the distance between their bodies and looked at him with those maddening green eyes that made a man forget every vow to behave like a gentleman.
“You are quite tolerable when you are silent,” she said sweetly, as though she weren’t upending his, his, ahem, world, in the most deliberate way imaginable.
Bishop cleared his throat. “Is this revenge of the wife? You’ve quite the flair for revenge, Liss.”
“You should have expected nothing less.”
“No,” he agreed. “I shouldn’t have. Are you going to kiss me next?”
“Kiss you? How will that be revenge? Not kissing you would be much more punishing.”
Bishop groaned. “Where was this saucy wench hiding?”
“Saucy wench?” She batted her lashes like a woman who knew precisely what she was about. “I thought you liked a challenge.”
Challenge was one word for it. Torment was another. “I’m not against you punishing me for insolence.”
“Even if that means I barricade the doors to my chamber?”
“I hate punishment. Please don’t punish me.”
She uncaged his legs and settled back into her seat like she hadn’t just caused every one of his wits to rush to the painful hardness throbbing below. “Then I suppose I’ve succeeded.”
He met her gaze, and for one perilous instant, neither of them moved. The air thickened again, just as it had in her room earlier. A single heartbeat, another, and everything inside him bellowed to yank her onto his lap, to see if she’d still look so calm with his mouth on hers.
“Should I consider us even, then?”
She snorted. “Not even close.”
He chuckled, shifting in the seat, but no amount brought any relief. It would be so much better if she would flush red at his state, but she obstinately refused to allow her gaze to drop even the slightest of bits.
“How diabolical,” he muttered.
Her lips twitched. “Perhaps I’ve learned from the best.”
Confound it, he loved her like this. Teasing him back. It was the first time she touched him first, was it not? He’d cherish this memory forever.
And forever was the plan.
Chapter Twelve
The masquerade wasin full swing when they arrived. If Alyssia was honest, she’d been counting the moments to this ball. If she had thought Giles was a rogue before the moment in the carriage when she’d teased him back, he had earned the title of outlandish as well. He would hold conversations through the door while she bathed. He slipped into her bed at night. He would call her one of three endearing terms and rotate between them.
Wife, his favorite.Princess, his second favorite. AndLiss, when she finally had enough and scolded him. When in company, those endearments would reverse.
