His eyes smolder, and the anger that fuels me slowly drains away, replaced with that same feeling the first time I wound up accidentally in his arms—want. To prove it, my girlie parts throb right on cue.
It’s irritating as hell.
Every muscle, including my tongue, is tangled and tied, but somehow I manage to spit out, “Let go of me.”
His gaze snaps up to mine. He blinks away the hazy look in his eyes and straightens. “You won’t fall again? It’s your second time crashing into me.”
My response is more of a growl than actual words. Very sophisticated.
I watch him as he rights me. Moonlight slices across high cheekbones and his jawline, which still unravels to infinity. His scent’s a cloud I’ve fallen into—amber and leather. The aroma wraps around me like a warm blanket, one I want to snugg?—
“You’re staring,” he snips.
Oh. Right. My gaze lowers to my arm. “You’re still holding me.”
He drops his hand like my flesh is made of hot coals. Well, I have news for him, I am not made?—
“You look like you have something you’d like to say,” he says, sounding more annoyed than interested.
“Um…”
“I’m fairly certain that’s not a word.”
I scoff bitterly. Thenerveof him. “I know all about words. I use them all the time.”
His eyes glitter with mischief. “You mean when you’re not puking?”
“That was a one-time deal. I don’t normally do that. Only when traveling by magic.”
“Then for the safety of us all, please keep your feet on the ground.”
“Very funny. So.” I cross my arms defiantly. “What brings you to the garden tonight? Wondering if the roses smell the same during the day as they do in the dark? I can tell you right now that they do.”
One side of his mouth tips up in amusement. “I thought they smelled like lollipops. Don’t they?”
A laugh threatens to rumble in my throat, but I squash it before it escapes. “Only small-minded people think roses smell like candy.”
“You’ve caught me. I’m small-minded and weak-willed,” he replies flatly.
If anyone’s weak between the two of us, it’s me. He’s built like a superhero, all big and masculine, whereas I’m the complete opposite, small and soft.
He tilts his head and studies me. “You seem different.”
“Because I’m not at your feet?”
“No, I think it’s your hair.”
I touch it only to remember that it’s up. Not that I’m going to say that to him. With absolutely no intention of giving him the satisfaction of having the last word, I reply, “You seem different, too.”
He lifts a brow, obviously hanging on my every word (heavy dose of sarcasm intended). “How’s that?”
“You’re not demanding I lick your boots clean.”
He snaps his fingers. “I knew there was something I was forgetting.”
He’s funny. I’ll give him that. But I won’t give him the smile that nearly flutters to my lips. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”
I step away but his voice, which sounds like smoke rolling over a creek bed, catches me. “If you mean the ball, it’s in the other direction.”
