No wonder she looks overworked. Pale. Tight around the eyes.
And I’ve been adding to the load instead of reducing it. That’s not acceptable.
Why I care is a question for another time. Preferablynever. I don’t intend to pull on that thread. It won’t end somewhere useful.
I’ve lost sight of my objective. Worse, I’ve let her become a distraction instead of an asset.
She was supposed to be integrated into my plans, not interfere with them.
Roxy taps her fingers against the tablet, her nails striking an uneven rhythm. Not impatience. Not exactly. More like restraint. As if she’s holding something back.
She’s irritated by my presence. Fair.
What bothers me more is my own lapse in control.
Is she annoyed? Or nervous about the presentation? Either way, it’s irrelevant.
And yet I find myself watching her hands.
“You crushed it at the rehearsal yesterday. You’ll be fine, don’t worry,” I offer, even though my opinion or support is the last thing she’d accept.
She doesn’t look at me. She keeps making notes and… it looks like calculating something in the notes app on her tablet, the tablet’s pen running furiously over the screen.
“I’m not worried,” she mutters.
“If you say so,” I scoff.
Yeah, I’m definitely sulking. I’m so fucking immature around this woman, it’s noteven funny.
She whips her head to me. “Maybe I’m uncomfortable because you’re staring.”
Our gazes collide, and I respond with a smirk. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Thunder?”
She studies me, her lips pressed into a line.
“You know why I put on business attire?” She angles her body to me. “All my life I have had to fight to be taken seriously among men. This is just a game to you, but it’s important to me. And here we are, and you pull the most disgusting card in the book.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“You pretend to want me, so you distract me enough to let my guard down. Well, fuck you, Liam Stone. Stop staring at me; stop leaning your lips toward me, and best of all would be if you got lost completely.”
That’s what she thinks? That I’m pretending? That it’s my strategy?
I slide closer, not minding the driver. My nose is in her face. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. Doesn’t scoot farther away.
I drape my arm on the backrest behind her, leaning even closer.
Her chest rises and falls in short bursts. Her jaw ticks, but her gaze is firm on mine. This woman doesn’t cower.
Fuck, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing ever. She lifts her chin ever so slightly.
Her lips are so close, but after her declaration, she would probably bite my tongue off.
“There is a pull between us, Little Thunder. It might be unwelcome. It certainly is inconvenient. We might not want to act on it, but it’s inevitable. We can’t wish it away. So do us both a favor and decide what you want.”
Her only response is a glare and a swallow.
My hand finds her chin, and I hold it between my thumb and forefinger. Not that I need to force her to look at me. She’s already shooting me with her glare.
