“Why did you order bodyguards without consulting me?” He frowned. “Where did you think they’d come from?” “My father.” “I just did what he should have. I made sure to look after your safety,” he said smoothly, arrogantly. Her chin tipped defiantly. He might have been right about them needing bodyguards—for Issa’s sake—but she wasn’t backing down on everything. “Just because I kissed you at the restaurant does not mean I intend to invite you into my bed.” Grinning wickedly, he clamped a hand over his heart. “Damn. My spirit is crushed.” “You’re joking, of course.” She stopped just shy of touching him, the banter sparkling through her like champagne bubbles. “Possibly. But make no mistake, I do want to sleep with you and every day I wait is…torture.” The barely restrained passion in his voice sent those intoxicating bubbles straight to her head.
