I look down, at what I’m holding, and suck in a sharp breath. Shoving my hand back behind me, I say, “Nothing.”
Interest sparks in his eyes.
Heat pours through my limbs, racing to fill my face.
He takes a slight step toward me.
“Kyran,” I warn.
“Remember what I said about boundaries and crossing lines?” Another step.
My heart jerks into my throat. “Crossing boundaries goesdirectlyagainst building trust.”
He pouts, conceding. Dropping his hip against his sports car, he looks elsewhere, off me, up the neighborhood street. “Does it? That is devastating news for me.”
Uh-huh.Boohoo. The second I get back inside, I amburningthis card. “While we’re on the topic of boundaries, I’d like to enforce one.”
He regards me out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’tcome to my house after dark,” I choke on the words, because he says them at the same exact time. “Wha…” My stomach twists. I open my mouth again, in an attempt to finish my point, but his opens at the same time. We both say, “It’s—”
“—inappropriate,” he finishes when my tongue ties. Then he adds, “I did say I was inappropriate in my list of flaws. But I think you’ll find if you squint and tilt your headjustright, that one can be a plus point.”
Absolutely no it cannot. “You can’t do this. I mean it.”
He switches the topic. “I didn’t like the way we left things earlier, but I was too tired to address it then.” Laying a fluttering hand regally against his chest, he says, “I have, since, napped. So I’d really like to discuss your raging case of denial as it coincides with your incurable desire for me.”
I find myself choking on my words again, stammering and stuttering and sputtering about as heat crawls up my neck, to my ears, and blazes in my head.
Cool as a fresh sheet of ice, Kyran says, “Face it. You’re attracted to me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw caution to the wind and take advantage of that.”
Onegood reason? Boy. What do you meanone? There aredozens. So I start listing them. “I’ll never be able to trust you if you do that. It’s manipulation. It’s wrong. You shouldn’t take advantage of people. Whowouldn’tbe attracted to you? You’re—” I wave my hand at him, the onewiththe card. My heart jolts, and I put that stupid thing back behind my back yet again.
“I’m…?” he coaxes.
I grit, “You really want me to say it?”
“Yes, very much.”
“It’sobvious.”
“You’re being ableist.”
I cut my attention off him, up one street, then up the other—looking for whatever cameras might be here to capture this horrible prank. None appear. So I plant my glare back on him. “How, pray tell, am I beingableist?”
“Not everyone can see the obvious. It’s a real disability, you know.” He dips his chin, tutting in respect for the minority he’s supporting. “Stupidity.”
Ah, right, yes. Silly of me. I did indeed forget about thestupid people. “I sure hope you’re on government aid for that, then,” I mutter.
“Would it really kill you to admit aloud that I’mpretty?”
My brows rise as I behold this ludicrous man. “Pretty?” I ask, levelly. “Pretty?” I bark a laugh. “You really think I was going to say anything aboutpretty?”
His tongue exits his mouth, wets his lips. “To be certain, I was more confident about my prettiness and your opinion of it roughly five seconds ago, yes.”
I scoff, shake my head, dare to take a step up to him, then I hiss, “You’rehot.”
He blesses me with the softness in his expression as his lips tip toward a smile. His cool palm lands on my cheek, and I findmyself frozen—in place, right here, inreach. Sultry and deep, he says, “Oh? Is that so?”
