That was a fair assessment of her entire personality. Intrigued that he’d picked up on that, she decided to press it. “I thought you liked it. Remember? You told me not to fix it last time.”
“It’s distracting because it makes me wonder what you look like with your hair down,” he responded huskily.
Somehow, they’d drifted a little closer together. He’d picked up on the shifting vibe and had angled his body toward her. Not too close, because he wasn’t an idiot. Her minor freak-out earlier had cost them a degree of ease she wanted to recapture.
“Wearing my hair up is professional,” she informed him. “Since we’ve banned all work talk, maybe that should go, as well.”
Before she lost her nerve, she reached up and pulled the clip loose from the twist at the back of her head. As she tucked it in her pocket, her hair cascaded down her back, with a bit of volume for once because it had dried in the chignon.
Warren made a noise low in his chest and it sounded far hungrier than she would have supposed would be appropriate for a simple thing like taking down her hair. She shook it out, her scalp crying in relief. Releasing her hairstyle was one of the highlights of her day, usually, and doing it in front of Warren added a measure of intimacy that she hadn’t expected. It was like he was watching her undress at the end of the night, and a hum of expectation started up in her core.
It had been a very long time since a man had looked at her with an edge. The way Warren was looking at her now.
“As your boss, I must insist you continue to wear your hair up at the office.” With that odd pronouncement, he plucked her wineglass from her hand and set it, along with his own, on a table behind him then returned to her side. “As your husband, I hereby ban that twisted-up hairstyle from crossing the threshold.”
“What are you saying, that the moment I enter the house I should take my hair down?”
“Or I’ll do it for you.” The temperature of the sultry evening rose a few degrees as Warren’s gaze played over her face. “You should really never wear it up. But, selfishly, I want to keep this secret all to myself.”
The heat that prickled across her cheeks then should have spread clear down to her neck, but she’d been the one to introduce this new dynamic. Boldly. It was getting a far bigger response than she’d expected. Were they practicing for a green-card interview or was this something else?
More important, what did she want it to be?
“It’s not really a secret,” she said inanely.
The real secret was beneath her clothes and she couldn’t stop imagining what might happen if he’d made a random comment about how distracting her suit was. His expression might heat with something entirely different if she started shedding clothes. The scraps of lingerie left almost nothing of her body covered. And that’s why they were hidden.
She had very little practice at flirting and even less practice at taking control in intimate situations—or, at least, not successfully. Bryan had chipped away at her confidence every time he called her those horrible names whenever she was aggressive. Professionally, she knew her strengths, could easily pivot between situations with confidence. This was way out of her depth and she had to stay in control or panic would overwhelm her.
“Oh, yes, it’s a huge secret,” he countered, his voice low. “With your hair down, you transform from an attractive professional woman into a complete temptress.”
That thrilled through her to the core, easily eclipsing the panic. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. “What could I tempt you into doing?”
“Anything.”
The moment stretched out to the point of snapping, but still he didn’t shift his gaze from her. Boldly, she stared back, hardly recognizing herself in this scenario. A man had invited her to his private terrace and plied her with wine, setting the scene for a seduction that she was actively participating in.
And yet, he was holding back. She could feel it. He didn’t want to step over her boundaries, a detail she appreciated far more than he could ever know. They’d mapped out an in-name-only marriage that had seemed simple on the surface. That was before she’d known all this heat would spring up between them. Before she’d known she’d want to see where things might lead.
This was her seduction to move forward. Warren wasn’t Bryan. Logically, she knew this was different. He’d flat out said she could do the tempting and he’d follow her into whatever she laid out. It was heady and powerful, and she couldn’t stop marveling at the amazing qualities of the man she’d married.
“Warren,” she murmured. “I mean this in all sincerity. You’re the most patient man I’ve ever met. Too patient. I feel a distinct need to have my hair tucked back.”