“Why would I complain about sleeping with you?”
“What! No. No way.” With her mouth tightly compressed, she closed her eyes, blocking all trace of her emotions. A moment passed in silence. When she regarded him once more, determination etched every line and hollow of her expression. “Sleeping together isn’t necessary. I have a spare bedroom. You’ll use that.”
She didn’t mean it. She couldn’t. “I am your pleasure slave. Sleeping with you is my obligation.”
“Your obligation?” She reared back, her hand fluttering over her chest. “No, thank you. When I’m with a guy, it’ll be because we adore each other, not because I’m an obligation to him.”
Tristan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one hip against the speckled counter beside him. Seducing women was second nature to him, instinctive and usually boring. Before Zirra, he’d pursued, he’d won, and he’d moved on. He’d loved his life. Or at least, he’d thought he had. But any pleasure he’d once received from the chase, even from sex, had long since deserted him and now seemed like a chore.
Most times, he’d rather count grains of sand than bed a new mistress. Except…he wasn’t bored right now. Excitement pounded through him, reminding him of the good old days, when he’d taken women simply because he desired them.
“Why sleep alone when you can partake of my warmth?” His voice dipped low and seductive, something that caused most women’s eyes to close at half-mast, their knees to go weak and their resistance to melt. “I am here for your needs, little dragon. All of your needs.”
Julia screeched, an all-out, honest-to-Elliea, I’ve-had-enough-of-you screech. She even stomped her foot. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want any pleasure.”
“Forget pleasure and displeasure. Do you enjoy pain?” he asked, honestly curious.
Her jaw dropped, a strangled gasp leaving her. “No.”
Relieved, he gifted her with a sublimely immoral grin and pretended to misunderstand. “No, of course you don’t enjoy it. But you need it, yes? Tell me. Do you prefer I spank you with my hand or a paddle?”
“We are not having this conversation,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Had teasing a woman ever been so fun? “I have need of clarification.” He took two steps forward. “For some, the hand provides enough stimulation. For others, only a paddle will do.”
Julia slapped her hands over her ears. “This isn’t happening to me. I am not standing in my kitchen with a man who has seen my butt and thinks everything I say is a sexual come-on. I’m dreaming again. That’s it. This type of torture is too cruel to be real.”
“Oh, no, little dragon. Right now, I am not torturing you. But do you say the words, I will give you the sweetest torture your body has ever known.”
“Enough!” Scowling, she jabbed a finger in his chest. “You will stop that right now, Mr. Body.”
Do not laugh. “Nay, I am Tristan.”
“And you are completely missing the point. There will be no more talk about sex. In fact, if there’s one more word about…about…dirty rotten monkey love, I will personally cut out your tongue. No, don’t say it.” She extended an arm, hand up palm out, when he opened his mouth to reply. “Don’t say anything for at least sixty seconds.”
He waited the allotted time, stewing all the while, then said, “This dirty rotten monkey love sounds interesting. Mayhap you should explain in minute detail.”
Another stomp of her foot. “Why can’t you understand? I’m not interested in you in that way.”
That gave him pause. “You have no liking for me? Not in the slightest bit?”
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “I’m sorry, you’re just not the kind of guy I’m drawn to, that’s all.”
Hmm. Had things changed so much in the past eighty-nine seasons?
He gave himself a thorough once-over, yet found himself lacking in absolutely no way. His body appeared as strong as ever, and he still had all of his hair and teeth. What did the women of her world prefer?
What did he prefer today? Seduction or sleep? He thought he might actually…want Julia. Truly want. He imagined her naked in bed, writhing with pleasure and begging for more, and he shot harder than stone.
No “might” about it. He did. He wanted her. But she didn’t want him back. For some reason, she found him unappealing.
To change her mind or not change her mind?
No need for thought. Change. Definitely. When you had your first impromptu erection in hundreds of years, you didn’t waste it. Besides, the challenge enticed him on every level.
His friend Roake would have laughed right now. The battle-scarred warrior had often commented that Tristan needed a refusal or two. Built character, he’d said.
“Do you find me ugly?” Tristan asked.
“Ugly?” Julia peered up at him. “How can you possibly think I find you ugly? You’re like a nineteenth-century porcelain dessert plate topped with chocolate éclairs.”
Despite her praise, he remained…what was this stinging emotion? Hurt?
“I know exactly how it feels to be found lacking by others, and the thought that I caused the feeling in someone else pains me greatly. Please believe me when I say you are beautiful. And again, I’m so sorry I made you feel otherwise.”
“I see.”
“I see? What do you see?” She lifted her lashes and looked up at him, beseeching him. “I truly am sorry that I upset you and made you feel unattractive. I didn’t mean to. Honest.”
Her ardent apology seeped into his bones, as sweet as the nectar of gartina petals. More than that, her concern for his emotional state proved even sweeter. It also mystified him.
“If I’m so desirable,” he said, “explain why you do not like me in that way.”
“You’re just so…well, you carry a sword.” Finger shaky, she pointed to his talon.
Ah, she feared his mighty blade.
The double entendre made him smile inwardly. Women from multiple worlds had demanded he wear his weapon in
