His focus is fixed on me and far from the game at hand. “Am I distracting you?” I ask sweetly. “When are you not?” “Hmm. Your heart is pounding, Prince,” I whisper against his ear at the feel of it thundering beneath his chest. “It’s a close game,” he murmurs. “And I’m not accustomed to losing.” I scoff softly. “No, you’re used to that pretty face and title of yours getting you everything you want.” He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes, allowing me to glimpse the emotion peeking through the cracks in his mask. His gray gaze travels over my face, taking in every disheveled inch of me.
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