“One meal. Please.” At my words she stopped and stared at me. Her attention was like a gut punch. My heart pounded. My c**k swelled.
She shook her head. “It’s not a good idea.”
“I am not a fighter. Not anymore.” I leaned forward and lifted a hand to her cheek. I needed to touch her. It was a compulsion. Necessary.
Moving slowly, I ran my thumb along her cheekbone, down to her jaw. Her skin was softer than a flower petal. The softest thing I’d ever touched. “Please. I wish to thank you. I give my word of honor as a warlord you are safe with me.”
“A warlord? What is that, exactly? Where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”
Fuck. I fumbled through my s*x-crazed mind for the name of a country on Earth that might work to ease her suspicions. I’d studied her native language, the planet
