Gods spare me, how long have I stood here, gaping at him in dumbstruck silence? Clearing my throat, I harden my brow and cross my arms. “Why aren’t you ready?” He raises an eyebrow. “I suppose that depends on what you expect me to be ready for.” His full lips quirk in a dangerous smile. “One might argue I’m ready for any number of things.”
What marvelous romantic banter. I can imagine the blush in Clara's cheeks. Castien, you da man.
