“Give me names, then.”
Her brows shoot up. “Names?”
I nod, not wanting to hear any names at all. The last thing I want to hear about are her past sexual experiences. It’s none of my business.
“Well.” She hesitates, those big eyes locking with mine. She looks so damn serious. “There was one guy.”
I remain cool, keeping my expression neutral. “What about him?”
Really? I was only teasing her about a list.
“I got in a little bit of trouble—with him,” she admits.
“What kind of trouble?”
Maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe I’ll get jealous, which is ridiculous.
“It was a torrid, brief affair. A few months in Paris. The most romantic city in the world, with an older man who taught me…so many things.” Charlotte smiles at me and I think Susan just had an orgasm from capturing the look on her face.
“What was his name?” My neutral façade is gone. Anger simmers in my veins, making my blood run hot. I’m not the one with a Constantine temper, but for some damn reason, I don’t like the thought of her with anyone else.
“Should I even tell you? Hmm, I don’t know.” She taps her index finger against pursed lips. They’re pink and plumped and covered in the faintest glossy sheen.
“Drop your finger, Charlotte!” Susan yells.
Charlotte does as she’s told, making my brows lift. Wonder if she likes to be told what to do in private situations. “I can’t wait for this to be over.”
“No changing the subject, future wife. I want to know.” I take a step forward, settling my hand on her hip, my touch light yet possessive. Just trying to keep it real for the photos. For once, she doesn’t pull away. Her skin is warm, I can feel it, despite the layers of her dress. “What’s the deal with this guy you got in trouble with?”
“It’s really none of your business.”
Why is that snotty tone of hers such a turn-on?
“As your future husband, I would say it is.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
I chuckle. “You sound like you’re five.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh trust me.” My gaze falls down the length of her body, lingering on her gaping neckline. Those tits I kept talking about the last time we were together aren’t on blatant display, but I see just enough of a curve to be intrigued. “I know.”
She literally stomps her foot, now acting like she’s five. “You’re disgusting.”
“Keep talking, princess. I know you’re just trying to avoid answering the question.” I tug her into me, my hand sliding to her lower back. Soft curves press into my side, obliterating all thought for a minute. She feels good. Fits perfectly. “Fine. Don’t tell me his name. I don’t care about him. I want to know about your list instead, and then I’ll tell you mine.”
“I don’t care about your list,” she retorts.
“I think you might.” I’m getting actual pleasure out of this, giving her shit. “Tell me. What were their names? All of those men you’ve fucked?”
“Such language.” Charlotte gently rests her hands on my chest, her pose deceiving. She might appear to be staring up at me with longing, but she’s really trying to shove me away.
I refuse to budge. And she doesn’t drop her hands either. Of course, Susan is documenting this very moment. She’ll end up with thousands of photos by the end of the session. “You like it.”
“No, I don’t. This conversation is—tacky.”
“I call it getting to know each other.” I smile.