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Summary
“Lord Bridgerton,” Kate breathed, trying not to panic, “I want to ask you something.”
“There is no need to be nervous, Miss Sharma. I promise I won’t bite.” He gave her a salacious grin, a character he often displayed as a defense mechanism, “Unless you want me too.”
Kate spluttered, choking on air at the image he painted. “I…uh…,” she struggled to speak.
His cockiness retreated at her nerves, “Miss Sharma, I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“You did not make me uncomfortable.” It was not discomfort that had pooled in her belly, it was lust. Screwing up her courage, Kate blurted out her request, “I want you to take me to bed.”