Three, maybe four, seconds ticked by before his dark brow inched up his forehead. “You keep your wine in the fridge?”
“I prefer it chilled.” I met his raised brow with mine. “Is that a crime?”
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, and holy freaking moly, the vibrations of it skittered over my skin. What in the actual hell was happening to me? Maybe going without a man’s touch for so long was finally catching up to me?
Had to be. No way was Tristan freaking Blake’s...anything affecting me.
“Don’t ever say that to Rafe.” He was closer now. When did he move closer?
“Why’s that?”Ah, crap.My voice did that damn squeaky thing again, only this time, there was an added hint of breathiness added to the mix.
Good grief.
“He’ll lecture you for hours on the proper wine etiquette. Trust me, it can get boring pretty fast. Unless…” Tristan eyed me up and down. “His accent gets you going?”
The way he’d phrased that. it wasn’t just a random statement. It was a question. One he’d very much liked to know the answer to if his intense stare was anything to go by.
“Italian’s not really my thing.” I blinked a few times then said, “I prefer Korean.”
The surprise on his face was priceless. “Really?”
“Yup.”
“Interesting.” He moved farther into my space, so damn close, I felt the heat of his body at my side. “I’ll have the wine, thanks.”
Oh good, maybe alcohol would even out the weirdness.
I took the bottle from the fridge but before I could put it on the counter, he covered my hand with his. My gaze shot to where he touched me, and damn Mrs. Ross, because all I could think was how warm andnicehis hand was.
And big.
With long fingers. He’d easily hold my fist in his palm.
Capable. That was the word Mrs. Ross had used. My bet would be way more than capable. An image of those fingers threaded through mine with my arms above my head filled my mind.
No. No, no, no, no. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t right at all. No thinking about Tristan and his hands touching me.
“Let me help with that.”
“Huh?” I was embarrassed to admit the squeakiness had reached a new level.
“The wine.” He flexed his fingers. “Let me open it.”
Without a word—mostly because I didn’t trust myself to speak—I slipped my hand out from under his to retrieve the bottle opener. I also used the small reprieve to mentally tell myself to get my damn shit together.
This was Tristan. Probably the only person in the world who I couldn’t and wouldn’t cross any lines with. Not only was he my boss, but we also didn’t share the same outlook on sex.
He was way too comfortable sharing his bed with the next willing body, where I’d only slept with guys who I’d been in a committed relationship with. All right, fine, guy. There’d only been one.
Yes, he’d turned out to be the worst human on the face of the earth, but that didn’t change my values. I could never be as blasé over sex as Tristan and even Izzy were. Feelings and trust had to be involved.
Tristan Blake didn’t do feelings, and I would never trust him with my most vulnerable parts.
That was the realization I needed to get my head straight.
I’d repeated it to myself over and over again as the three of us sat at my dining table and tucked into Millie’s favorite noodle dish. I’d mentally yelled those words when Tristan showed an actual interest in Millie. He got her talking about school, her love for singing, dancing, and all things K-pop.
Louder still, when it was time for Tristan to leave and Millie held out her hand for him to shake. This kid who didn’t want people she didn’t trust inside her bubble had reached out to him.
