gaze locked with hers. “I will prove to you that you are not frigid. That you are a warm, desirable woman. A woman made for pleasure.”
“What if you can’t?”
He gave a low laugh. “I will. All I have to do is touch you—even look at you—to know I am right.”
“And if you’re wrong?” she said desperately, remembering the humiliating night of prom when she was eighteen.
“Then I will pay a forfeit.” He smiled. “Shall we say—one million dollars?”
She gaped at him. “Is that a joke?”
“No.”
“That’s the second time you’ve offered me a million!”
“Is it not enough?” he said lazily, looking at her beneath heavily lidded eyes. “Two million, then. Ten. I am so sure that I can make you gasp with desire, so sure I can make you explode with pleasure, that if I am wrong, Laney, I will pay you ten million dollars.”
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