“Oh yeah. Much more entertaining than yours.” I mumble, unable to hold back my lips from curving into a smile, again.
A smile escapes her too, one she tries to repress by moving her mouth sideways.
And that is damn sexy.
It almost looks like we’re flirting… but I know that in truth, only I am doing it.
“You are unbearable,” she murmurs.
Exactly.
“A lot of women say that.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
“Depends on how you say it. You do it with that voice…” I lean slightly forward. “That voice that sounds like an invitation.”
She inhales, determined to ignore me. Or to hit me, she hasn’t decided yet. I think the line is thin at this point.
“Last position,” she says, and shows me how to raise my arms and lean to one side.
I imitate her—terribly—and end up wobbling.
“Don’t laugh at me, Angel.” I know she wants to, even though she tries hard to remain serious.
“I’m not. Focus, we have a lot of work to do, remember?”
I roll my eyes and pretend to be bored again. “Uh-huh.”
Our hands brush as she tries to correct my balance.
It’s a touch of nothing, but the blood explodes in my veins.
Her fingers tremble slightly, and for a second, I swear, I don’t know which of us is breathing faster.
“Stop,” she whispers, her voice no longer as steady as before.
“I’m not moving.”
“I know. It was a warning.”
Her gaze drops for a second to my lips.
Mine to hers.
And for a moment, I know I could lean forward, touch her, kiss her, give in to this torture.
We stay like that. Too close. Too hot.
She pulls away by a breath, just long enough to recover the professionalism that’s slipping through her fingers.
She steps back first, grabs a water bottle, and grips it like it’s the only barrier left.
“Becker, time is up. I’ll see you at two.”
She completely changes her tone, becoming professional, serious, irritated.
“At two?” It takes me a moment too long to remember the schedule.
