What was her fascination with his mouth? She couldn’t stop staring at it. She wanted to keep him talking but this was the wrong subject.
“The best way to get me interested in something is to withhold it. Curiosity isn’t only hazardous to felines.”
Bingo. The secret to romancing Kris was to withhold. And keep withholding until he was exploding with need. She sighed. Useless information now. “Of course. You don’t really care what stage six is. You just care that I know something you don’t.”
He grinned and leaned back against the couch, legs spread underneath the coffee table. “Exactly.”
Lights from the window threw his body into relief. Hair fell into his face against the fine planes of his cheekbones, and she sat on her hands before she did something really ill-advised. Only a dimwit licked a battery twice. “Well, you know lots of things I don’t. How is that fair?”
“Trade you, then. Tell me about stage six, and I’ll tell you something you don’t know.”
Suspicious, she planted her elbows on the low table and leaned forward. “No deal. It’s late, and I’m tired.”
She wasn’t. She’d never been more awake—aware—in her life. There was a coffee table between them but it provided no barricade against the spark of his presence.
Gracefully, he edged across the carpet and tipped her head up with the finger that, seconds ago, had been in his mouth. His heat branded her chin and she wasn’t so sure she had it in her to withhold anything from him.
He peered into her eyes. “What’s going on in there? Are you afraid of something?”
“Kris. Please don’t touch me.”
“You are afraid. Of me.” His shoulders slumped as he dropped his hand to the floor. “I don’t want you to be afraid. Would you prefer a separate room?”
“No!” Had she shouted? “I mean, I’m not scared of you. This whole middle-of-the-night scenario just isn’t proper. You’re about to be engaged, and we’ve already...done things. Things we shouldn’t have. I know I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m not some wild woman out for a good time with the first man I find.”
“I don’t think that.” He reclined into a different position. Closer. He extended his long legs behind her and propped up his head on his palm as if they were having a slumber party instead of a Come To Jesus about this electric attraction boiling the atmosphere.
She rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t you? I attacked you. On the Ferris wheel.”
“Well, I was warned you’d take advantage of me at the first opportunity.” He was fighting a smile. “It’s my own fault I allowed myself to fall into your clutches. Would you feel better if I told you I knew what you were up to at the carnival?”
No, she would have preferred to continue deluding herself about how clever she was. But obviously that ship had sailed.
“Kris.” She couldn’t keep up this back-and-forth dance. “You have to do the engagement, and I can’t be your dirty secret, hiding in the extra room and pretending to be your assistant or whatever. There can’t be anything between us. That’s why we can’t talk about stage six.”
His entire body stiffened, and she was ashamed to have noticed.
“I never intended to make you feel like a dirty secret when I offered the extra room. I’m sorry,” he said. Sincerity deepened the hollows along his cheekbones. “We could have avoided all this if you’d taken my trade.”
“What trade? Oh, where I tell you about stage six and you tell me something?” She exhaled. Well, she’d laid it all out there, and he’d apologized instead of laughing. What’s the worst that could happen now? “Fine. Dazzle me.”
Eyes dark and unfathomable, he stared at her. Slowly, he reached out to take her hand. He laced their fingers together and with a lift of his chin, he said, “You first. Stop being so cagey about stage six. Tell me what it is.”
His thumb traced her knuckles in a crazy, sensual pattern, and her brain shut down. At least that was her excuse for being so stupid as to continue this dangerous game of romance instruction. Being struck brainless had to be the reason she opened her mouth and whispered, “Consummation.”
His hand tightened and an elemental shock blistered up her arm as his expression heated. “I like stage six.”
She was trapped in his gaze, trapped by his touch. He lifted her hand to his mouth and watched her with clear intent as his lips molded around the tips of her fingers in a kiss.
“That wasn’t a suggestion. It’s only a word. We’re just talking.” She yanked her hand from his and desperation set in. He had to stop crawling inside her with that hooded expression, as if he’d been stranded on a desert island and she was water. “I’m not trying to convince you of anything anymore. You can get engaged to Kyla with a clear conscience. I give you my blessing. Now I told you about stage six. It’s your turn.”