My gaze goes nervously to the door. Fake wife or not, I can still GTFO if need be. This guy is payingme to be his arm candy for the press, not his private hooker.
Although, after what happened in the shower the other day …
But how can I not? The way he touched me in the shower, the way I became in there … like I lost allsense of control.
“Joy,” Gavril says from right next to me.
He’s too close now. His hand on my shoulder is probably meant to be comforting. But that scent ofhis, clogging my brain cells, goes straight between my legs and …
“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”
I turn away. “That’s not what I’m afraid of.” This conversation seems too intimate, too fast. We’re inthe dining room, for Christ’s sake. It doesn’t seem like the appropriate venue for either the thi
