"Arch your back."
Mia Grant's cheeks flushed crimson.
A single, lingering drop of water on her cheek felt like it was being held over a flame, instantly sizzling away into nothing.
She turned her head, unable to meet Silas Grant's gaze.
'The first two phrases were decent enough.'
'Arch your back... Why did that sound so suggestive?'
'But I have to admit, he's incredibly good at delivering dirty talk with that commanding tone of his.'
'It must be a natural talent.'
'It couldn't be helped. He was born an aristocrat, and that air of his was innate. No one else could capture its essence.'
Gazing at the crimson blush on her cheeks, Silas Grant knew. Her shyness was real, but so was her enjoyment.
'So that's how it is.'
He'd thought he would actually have to say some truly crude things, especially the kind laced with profanity. He could understand calling it flirting or a kink; some people were bound to enjoy that sort of dynamic.
