“King Arthur's Round Table of Knights. That’s not what he called it.”
I stretch out a leg and resist rearranging my cock, which is uncomfortable after all the action inside my briefs.
“Given I was a knight, and you were probably a wench working in the kitchens, let’s assume I am right.”
Brooklyn glances out the window, and I’m pretty sure it’s to hide her smile. She likes me.
I don’t blame her.
I am rather charming.
She turns back. “First, I don’t assume anything. Second, it would’ve been called a cookhouse or scullery. Kitchens were no—”
“I get it; you know everything.”
Christ, she’s a pain in the ass. If she weren’t so fucking gorgeous, I probablywoulddrop her at the hospital entrance, then tell the driver to floor it.
But I need her.
Brooklyn McKenna is a pawn in my plan, and for the foreseeable future, I will be the man she can’t stop thinking about.
I know what women want.
And so I’ll keep playing this little game.
“Also, given this entire thing is fictional, and there is no solid proof that King Arthur existed, I would be a queen. Or at least a princess.”
I snort.
“You mean Genevieve.”
“Yes. His queen.”
“Who ends up with Lancelot?” I smile.
I might be enjoying this a little, actually.
There is a long silence.
“Let me guess, you thinkyouare Lancelot.” When I look back, Brooklyn is rolling her eyes.
“SirLancelot.” I chuckle.
“My husband, the king, knighted you, and I’m the queen, so I don’t have to call you sir.”
I turn my body. “I love how much you’re getting into this. Are you always into roleplaying?”
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have said that.
I could have scared her off, but she surprises me by blinking, and I get the impression she’s about to answer in the affirmative, and then I’ll have to fuck her in the car before we get to the ER.
Which I’m totally fine with, for the record.
It would speed things up.
A second later, Brooklyn blinks once more and seems to have returned to her mildly hostile state.
