‘I thought little boudoirs of chains and whips were more your style,’ I jest automatically, harsh-toned and defensive and soften when he breaks into a genuine smile—catching me off guard with it. Not an Alexi, smug prick smile, or even a salacious arsehole one, a smile that brings out his dimples and softens those pale grey eyes to look less sinister.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget what a wanker he can be when he looks human and, dare I say it, handsome. I must remind myself ...