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Then stops completely.

His gaze lands on me and stays there.

For one strange second, neither of us moves.

The black T-shirt stretches across his chest while the one he gave me hangs against my bare thighs, and I become intensely aware that I am wearing nothing underneath it except underwear.

Zain’s eyes drop.

Only for a moment.

My legs.

The hem of his shirt.

Back to my face.

His jaw tightens.

Heat spreads through me so quickly I almost look behind myself to make sure the house has not followed me here.

“The pants were too big,” I say.

His voice comes out rougher than before. “I can see that.”

My pulse trips.

I tug uselessly at the hem. “They fell down.”

Something changes in his expression.

I should stop talking.

“They did not even pretend to stay up.”

Definitely stop talking.

Zain turns his head and drags one hand over his mouth.

I narrow my eyes. “Are you laughing at me again?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You keep saying that while visibly developing a sense of humor.”

His gaze returns to me.

Whatever amusement was there disappears.

The way he looks at me now makes every nerve beneath my skin wake up.

I forget the joke.

He does not move closer, but suddenly the few feet between us feel very small.