“Incorrigible wastrel.”
He turned his head slightly to hide a smile. He’d never enjoyed a woman so much out of bed as he did this one with her quick, saucy tongue. She proved an exhilarating challenge for him, much different than the simpering females he’d known who were content to bat their lashes and agree with everything he said, no matter how outrageous.
“Fool. Idiot. Bully,” she spat out.
“Enough.”
“Lecher.”
“Lecher?” He laughed. “I have never been called a lecher in my life. My men believe women swoon at my touch. I would hate to ruin that fantasy for them.” He released his grasp on her shoulders and tipped her chin up to look at him. “Women aboard this ship have always been with me which means hands off to the crew. You might want to consider a bit of playacting.”
She frowned and spat out, “Play acting?”
“Indeed. As lovers. But we must be believable.”
He leaned closer and whispered, “We must give the impression we have been intimate.”
She scowled and turned away from him.
“What do you say? Are you up for a bit of play acting?”
“I’ll do it.” Her words were empty, void of emotion. Jon would not feel sorry for her, would not feel anything for her. She was a schemer, a master manipulator, and a grand liar, and he would do well to remember that.
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