I jumped like I’d been electrocuted. “Yeah!” I squeaked. “Totally fine.”
Dorian blinked at me, then narrowed his eyes slightly in that way he did when he suspected I was hiding something. “Okay…” he said slowly. “Want to try that again?”
I shook my head. “I’m good, I just didn’t hear you come down the stairs.”
“Uh-huh.” He watched me for another second before walking past me into the kitchen like nothing had happened.
I stood there for a full ten seconds before realizing I’d been holding my breath.
Cool. Totally normal interaction.
From the kitchen, I heard the fridge open.
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“You left the milk out.”
“Oh, shit… Did I?”
“Yes.”
I hurried into the kitchen and grabbed it, shoving it back into the fridge like it was somehow incriminating evidence.
Dorian leaned against the counter, watching me with his head tilted. His damp hair brushed his shoulders, and he was wearing one of those loose black shirts that hung open just enough at the collar to show the ink along his chest.
Which, unfortunately, reminded me of the corset.
Which reminded me that there was a corset hidden in the house.
Which reminded me that I had secretly measured him like a deranged psycho stalker!
“So…”
“Yeah?”
“You’re acting weird.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not.”
He hummed, unconvinced, then pushed away from the counter and walked over to me.
Dorian had this way of moving that was unfairly quiet. One second he’d be across the room, the next he’d be right there, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him.
“You sure?” he whispered, eyes tracking the bob of my Adam’s apple as I tried to swallow around the lump in my throat.
My heart did a weird, guilty little flip. “Positive,” I said quickly.
Dorian studied me for another moment, and then, to my immense relief, he smirked. “Okay.”
That was it.
No interrogation.
