He’s so close that his body’s blocking my view of the sky. “Andyouare a natural actor.”
Magic that I’m quickly realizing is from the joining hums between us. Body heat wafts off him and wraps around me as he bends down.
Is he going to kiss me?
But his lips only brush my ear and I shiver. “You owe me a secret.”
I tilt my face toward his. “You owe me one more.”
He laughs, his breath warming my cheek. “Terrible, evil witch to remember our bargain,” he teases before straightening. “Thatwasthe second secret.”
“What was?”
“That I’m impressed with how well you’ve fawned over me.”
I use the opportunity to step back a few paces. The more space there is between us, the easier it is to breathe. “Well, I don’t think that I’ve batted my lashes at you nearly enough. I also haven’t ruffled your hair or nibbled your ear. Given that, I’ve done a terrible job.”
“Good point. You could do better.”
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask!So I ask. “How could I do better?”
He flares out his arms. “You could start by declaring that no one’s more handsome. Unless you’d rather step on my toes again.”
I cringe. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to?—”
“Yes, you did.”
“You’re right; I did. Would I take it back?”
“I doubt it.”
He inches forward. There’s a silent challenge etched on his face.How close will you stand to me?
I step up.I’ll see your wager and make another.“You’re right. I wouldn’t take it back.”
We’re so close now that our lips are only inches apart. It’s impossible not to stare at his—they’re full and look tragically welcoming.
This is playing with fire. This flirtation—what is this? We’re not interested in each other. I’m not in any shape to be interested in anyone—let alone the man I’m in a fake relationship with.
“You want me to declare that you’re handsome?” I wave my hand around. “If that’s all you want, then you’re a cheap date.”
“You’re right. We need more.” He rubs his chin, thinking. “We haven’t kissed. How’s everyone going to believe we’re in love if we don’t kiss?”
My breath hitches. I wait for him to laugh and say it’s a joke, but the desire in his eyes suggests he’s serious.
Good grief, if holding his hand makes me want to striptease, what would kissing him do to me?
Best not to find out. “I can’t exactly throw myself at you. Who wants their king to kiss in public? That’s not decent.”
He takes in the crowd. “Trust me—these people don’t believe in decency.”
“But I do.”
He pivots back toward me, and his smoldering eyes send a bolt of desire straight between my legs.
Stop it! Stop it!
“So you need a more intimate setting.” He hitches a shoulder and the guests disappear—every single one. “How’s that?”
