"Very well. Celia, then. You didn't answer my question. Do you like your husband's kiss?"
Celia feared that if her face burned any hotter, there'd be no need for the glowing wall torches that cast their light into the cavernous library. "For the love of all that's holy, Lucas! What kind of a question is that?"
"It's one I'd like you to answer." His thumbs were tracing slow circles on her cheeks as he continued gazing down at her. There was something soothing, almost entrancing about his delicate touch. An odd light gleamed in his wide set eyes.
"Very well then, if you must know. No, I don't like Tobin kissing me. Luckily, he rarely does it." Celia nearly told him she found everything about Tobin's taste and rough gestures, rather awful. But she didn't.
Lucas knew she didn't get along with Tobin. Still, it seemed disloyal for her to tell anyone in great detail just how much he repelled her.
