"One, call me Emilia. Nothing else. Two, my bed is my bed. Not yours. And, three, remember I am the one in control." His grip around me tightened and pulled me closer in one fluid movement, pressing my chest roughly against his. Who does he think he is? This is a waltz. Not a tango. "And what if I were to break those rules?" he asked, the corner of his lip twisting into a smirk. It was that very look that makes me want to shove him right up against a wall. Hard. "If you were smart," I said, fluttering my eyelashes innocently to look up at him, "you wouldn't test me." "I have to warn you, Miss Sinclair," he replied in a lower, huskier tone, "I can be stupid when it comes to a beautiful woman." Before my lips could even part to gasp, he leaned into me and pressed his cheek against mine, his hot breath brushing against my bare neck as he whispered, "And I'm definitely not scared of you." Just as he pulled away, I dug my fingernails into his shoulder and pulled him back into me. "Oh," I whispered back into his ear, "but you should be."