With him standing this close?
Breathing like that?
Absolutely not. My fingers tighten around the silk tie as if stranglingitwill somehow help me. “You know how to tie your own tie,” I say, but my voice comes out softer than intended. Weak. Suspiciously breathless.
His lips twitch.
“I do.”
“Then do that.”
“I could,” he says easily, taking another small step forward. “But where’s the fun in that?”
My heart gives one violent thud against my ribs. This man. This horrible, charming, dangerous man. I inhale slowly, trying to gather whatever remains of my dignity. “You are impossible.”
“I’ve heard that,” he murmurs. “Usually from beautiful women who later do me favors.”
I blink at him. Then narrow my eyes. “That line must work on very stupid people.”
“It’s never been tested on someone this terrifying before.”
I hate how close laughter sits inside me around him. I hate how easily he drags it out. I hate it more that I don’t move away. He tilts his chin slightly, exposing the open collar of his shirt. “Come on, Sunshine. Save me from a wrinkled public image.”
“You’re the CEO. Isn’t image manipulation one of your core skills?”
He places a hand over his chest dramatically. “You think so little of me.”
“I think accurately of you.”
His grin deepens. God. Those dimples should be taxed. I step forward before I can overthink it, because if I stand here any longer staring at his mouth, I deserve prison. “Stand still,” I mutter.
“I am deeply obedient.”
“You are deeply irritating.” I slip the tie around his neck. My fingers brush the warm skin just below his jaw. A mistake. A huge mistake. My breath catches so sharply I pray he doesn’t hear it. He definitely hears it. Because his eyes flick down to my mouth for half a second. Then back up. The air changes. No laughter. No teasing. Just this strange, taut silence stretched between us.
I focus on the knot. Simple task. Fabric through loop. Tighten. Straighten. Except my hands are traitors now. Slightly unsteady. A little clumsy. “Your pulse is racing,” he says quietly. I nearly yank the tie too hard.
“You’re imagining things.”
“I’m literally wearing your hands.”
My eyes snap to his. “That sentence was disgusting.”
He chuckles under his breath. “There’s my girl.”
I freeze. His smile falters for the first time. Not fully. Just enough to show he realized it too.
My girl.
Neither of us speaks. I look back down immediately, pretending the knot requires intense concentration. My chest feels tight. I tighten the tie and smooth the front of it against his shirt. “There,” I say, stepping back. “Done.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at the tie. His eyes are fixed on mine. “You’re very good with your hands, Sunshine.”
I almost choke. “You need professional help.”
“I need you to stop blushing every time I compliment you.”
I turn away before he can see the full damage. He laughs softly behind me, then reaches around to catch my wrist—not tightly, just enough to stop me. The contact sends a sharp little current through my skin.
