“I suppose Elisaf can take you there.” His fingertips graze my collarbone, and the simple, fleeting touch sends a shiver through my limbs.
The corners of his mouth twitch.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?” he asks with mock innocence.
My cheeks flush. “Feeding your male ego. I don’t like it.”
“Then I suggest you learn how to school those reactions.” He offers his arm. “Shall we go to the dungeon?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I curl my fingers around his biceps.