Kai’s eyes darken, something feral slipping under the charm. “You’ve been paying attention.”
“I told you,” I say. “I’m not stupid.”
“No,” he murmurs. “You’re not.”
He pushes off the counter slowly, and the movement brings him within inches of me. I don’t step back. I don’t know if I can.
His scent flares.
It’s not stronger.
It’s sharper.
The sweetness deepens, blending with smoke and salt until it feels like it’s the only thing filling my lungs.
My pulse kicks.
Kai notices.
His gaze drifts to my throat. To the place where my heartbeat jumps.
“You’re flushed,” he says casually.
“I’m annoyed.”
“Your pupils are blown.”
I hate that he’s right. “You’re imagining things.”
“I’m not,” he says softly. “I can tell.”
The words slide under my skin. “Tell what?” I challenge.
He leans in just enough that I feel the heat of him, but not enough to touch. “That you’re affected.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I said, I’m not.”
“And I said,” he replies, voice dropping, “that I can tell when someone’s aroused.”
The word lands like a spark to dry tinder.
Heat spreads low and sudden, pooling in a way that makes my breath catch.
I step back this time, furious at my body. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” he says, following the movement without closing the distance, “you keep coming back for more.”
I glare up at him. “Maybe I just like arguing with you.”
“Maybe you like me.”
I laugh, sharp and disbelieving. “You’re too much.”
“Too much for you?” he asks.