“Really?” he rumbled. His gaze slid down her body, lingering at her bare upper chest. She shivered. Anger thinned his lips. “I don’t like being toyed with, Alejandra. If I married you, it wouldn’t be to get out of a lie. And it wouldn’t be because you pity me or feel indebted or because you’re desperate. Don’t offer it again.” He grabbed a light-green bottle near her elbow and pushed it into her chest. “When you’re ready to actually deal with this, let me know.”
