He met her look with a level one of his own. “Second thoughts already, my dear?” The endearment was not meant as such, and they both knew it. His words were a challenge, an answer to one that she’d issued initially. She’d offered him her body, almost demanded that he take it, and now he’d come to collect. It would be foolhardy to think that he might make this easy for her. Farah lifted her chin. “No. I merely thought that you might want to take it off, yourself.” She was playing a dangerous game, and she saw that danger flash in his eyes. “If that were the case, I’d have ripped it off you immediately. Stop stalling and take. Off. Your. Dress.” Of course. He’d want to watch. It excited him. Aroused him. Very well, Mr. Blackwell, Farah thought. Watch this. Dorian could tell she pretended it wasn’t the trembling of her fingers that stole the dexterity from her movements. She tried to keep his gaze locked on her challenging eyes, flashing with little gray storm clouds, but Dorian couldn’t manage to stop from visually devouring every hint of skin each release of a button revealed.
