The latch releases on the first try, and I feel like the biggest idiot ever.
“Thanks.” I nearly choke at having to say this.
“You’re welcome.”
His tone on the other hand is lazy and amused, and oh, if only he weren’t Icelle’s brother, I would totally kiss himkiss himsome more—
I think I’m about to lose my mind. Why won’t he just go away? Why is he still leaning over me, one hand resting on the armrest, and his too-beautiful face close enough that I can see the glint in his impossibly dark eyes?
His hair falls forward the tiniest bit, and my fingers curl around the armrest, my only way of fighting off the urge to touch it.
Something rises up my throat as he stays there, near enough to touch.
I wish I could just stay still and indifferent, but the longer we stay like this, the harder it is to ignore the tension between us, simmering and smoldering hotter and hotter until it has me biting my lip, which then has his gaze dropping to my mouth...and staying there.
No no no no no no.
My heart is doing something frantic in my chest. My throat is too dry. And before I can stop it, before I can think about it, before I can even register what my body’s about to do—
I swallow.
Hard.
And the glint in his eyes?
It turns into a gleam.
Knowing. Satisfied. And absolutely annoying.
AAARGH.
He’s already straightening and stepping back, and here I am still trying to catch my breath, still trying to forget how having him just six inches away from me is enough to turn my world upside-down—
“Ti, let’s go.”
Icelle pulls me out of my seat, and I don’t know if I feel relieved or worried that she’s completely oblivious to the tension that’s still gripping the air.
Arkane steps aside as we reach the door. “Ladies first,” he murmurs.
Oh, he’s acting like a gentleman.
Ha!
Does he really think that’s going to work after everything?
As Icelle and I head down the stairs, all I can do is focus on each step because I can feel her stepbrother gazing at me from behind, and it’s painfully, terribly, and shamefully distracting.
The warmth of San Antonio air envelops us as we walk to the tarmac, the heat shimmering up off the asphalt.
I’ve always been more of an autumn than summer kind of girl, but just this once I’m grateful for the heat. It’s the perfect alibi with how my cheeks are still flushed for all the wrong reasons.
As we cross toward a low white building that I’m going to assume is the private-terminal equivalent of an airport, Icelle suddenly looks at me and asks, “Did you pretend to be helpless?”
I almost trip over my own feet. “Ugh,no."
Icelle nods slowly, like a scientist confirming a hypothesis. “So he makes you clumsy then, when you’re normally not.”
“Will youpleasestop analyzing us?”
