It wasn’t the wide-eyed gold-digging I was used to.
It was stubbornness.
And it was fucking sexy on her.
Her gaze flicked over to me again, lingering on my hand a little longer than the last couple of times.
Then it shifted, moving across my chest, my arms, my neck.
She wasn’t subtle, but she wasn’t trying to be.
Andthatwas one thing I was used to.
Her eyes came back up to mine.
And I saw it there.
The tiniest crack in her armor.
The moment to strike.
She knew it too.
I leaned in slightly, letting my voice drop.
“You keep looking at my hands.”
She blinked.Slowly.
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” I smirked, knocking back the last of my whiskey and setting it down with an audibleclack. “Or are you justverybad at hiding how much you’re thinking about what else they can do besides holding a glass?”
She held her drink near her lips.
Stared me down.
A little patch of fog springing up on her glass.
Her gaze flickered for the briefest of seconds down to my mouth.
Then back up again.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Matt.”
Matt.
Was that the first time she’d said it?
It sounded good from her lips.
Something about the way she looked at me, the way she let my eyes drag over her again, made me want to push.
I leaned in a little further.
Voice lower.
“Have you ever done something you weren’t supposed to on an airplane?”
