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For lack of anything better to say, she said, “It’s nice.” He narrowed his eyes and puffed a scoff. “You’d prefer a cot in a closet?”
“I’m not sure how many more times I need to say it,” he whispered, and the room was barely breathing. “That heartspring is mine. Her mouth is mine, her magic is mine, her skin is mine.”
“You will not touch her, under any circumstances. I purchased her. I do what I please with her.”
“If you insist on forgetting your manners, Rosewood, then maybe I’ll be tempted to forget mine,” he whispered against her mouth.
“What manners?” she said weakly. “You’re no gentleman, Toven Hearst.”
“If you wanted a gentleman, you’d already be betrothed to Winchester.”
“Do you want a gentleman?” he asked, his voice a low hum that sent waves through her.
The response fell from her lips, unbidden. “No.”
“Toven Hearst simply forgot his manners again.”
“What manners?” he called after her, echoing her own words. “I’m no gentleman, I’ve been told.”
