Remy licked his lips, aware that Malekh’s eyes were following the movement. “Don’t know if you want to fight me,” he said, nearly a whisper, “or fuck me.” “It’s both, Pendergast.” The noble’s free hand was fisted on the table, elbow lowered and body tense like he was about to leap for him, and Remy was already bracing himself for the impact they would make before he’d thought it through. “It’s always been both.”
