Chapter 7 Scarred Duke (2)

• He flexed his fingers, a habit he had grown up with—the one that gave his hunger for disaster away. Once he had given it up because of me, I didn't need to ask when he picked it up again.
• "For years I devised that scene for you, and I am unable to even receive a thank you," Knight sighed, running his flexible fingers through his damp, dark hair. His pupils brightened. "Maybe we should do it again."
• "No," I shook my head thoroughly, burrowing my hands into my nightie, hating that the nightie wasn't enough to give me warmth. "Why are you doing this?" My throat felt heavy. "Why don't you just focus on me? Thorstein did nothing."