His thumb presses lightly against the back of it, not enough to be obvious, just enough that my pulse picks up in a place I don't want him to notice.
He studies my face with a look that feels too much for a man I haven't spoken to in years.
I try to pull my hand back.
He doesn't stop me, but he also doesn't help me escape.
He lets my fingers slip from his like he's memorizing the shape of them.
"Careful," he murmurs close enough for only me to hear. "If you keep looking at me like that, I might forget I'm supposed to behave."
My breath catches. "I wasn't looking at you in any particular way."
He tilts his head slightly, and the corner of his mouth lifts just enough to qualify as a sin. "Are you sure about that?"
Heat rolls up my neck. I try to find something smart to say when he leans a fraction closer, not enough for anyone to notice, yet enough that I can feel the warmth of his body through my dress. "Let me give you one warning," he says. "You shouldn't look atme the way you're looking right now, Lena. Years in the military, and still…" What he doesn't say lingers in the smoke and space between us, and yet, the burn in his eyes and the way he smiles a little crookedly make goosebumps erupt all over my arms.
My knees almost buckle.
His tone is so quiet, so sure, that there is no room to pretend he means anything innocent.
This is a line drawn only so he can step over it later. I swallow. "You shouldn't say things like that."
He holds my gaze without blinking. "I shouldn't. But you'd want me to if you were honest with yourself."
My heart pounds so hard that I feel slightly dizzy. The room is loud, but nothing reaches me.
It feels like the whole party has been pushed back ten feet, leaving only this man and the heat building between us.
Then someone on the other side of the room calls his name. Gabe straightens, and the spell cracks.
He doesn't step far, but the space feels colder when he puts it there. "Duty calls," he says, still in that calm voice that makes me feel like I've been pinned to the floor without a hand being laid on me.
The noise of the party kicks back in, wild and oblivious. He nods once, slow enough for only me to notice the hesitation, and then he turns toward the crowd.
I try to stay busy, but Gabe makes that impossible.
He drifts and always somehow ends up in my orbit.
When I bring out another tray of appetizers, he takes the opposite end to help me carry it without my even asking.
When I squeeze past a group of men blocking the hallway, his hand rests at the small of my back without thinking, guiding me through the narrow space.
The touch is light, but it sends heat straight through me.
When I take the trash out, I push the back door open with my hip. Before it even swings fully, he's there, reaching past me to hold it open with one hand.
His body heat brushes my shoulder. His scent hits me in a quiet wave. "Thank you," I say, trying not to look like a girl who forgot how to stand.
"No problem," he answers, leaning close enough that my hair lifts slightly with his breath. He laughs quietly, and it's a deep, short sound that tugs at something low in my stomach. Before I can do or say something stupid, I bolt back inside.
Back inside, the party gets even louder. Someone starts a drinking game. Someone else yells about a song that came out when I was a toddler. I keep pretending to be busy, wiping counters that aren't dirty and moving napkins that don't need moving.
But every time I look up, he's watching me like he is trying to memorize something and doesn't want to be caught doing it. Near the end of the night, the noise hits a point where I can't breathe through it anymore. I slip outside for air.
The porch is quiet except for the faint hum of crickets. The railing is cool under my palms. The night air settles over my bare arms and cools the heat crawling across my chest.
I take one deep breath.
