Page 117 of Taken Away

“I am not embarrassed.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make a point.

It didn’t move him an inch.

His hand settled against her bare hip under the blanket.

Possessive. Automatic. Warm.

He didn’t leave it there.

With a lazy tug, his fingers hooked the top edge of the wool and pulled it down an inch.

Aubrey gasped.

She yanked the blanket back up to her chin.

“Bennett!”

“What?” His eyes were wicked. Unbothered. “I’m just adjusting the covers.”

“You’re trying to strip the management.”

“The management is hiding,” he countered. His grip tightened as he gave another slow, teasing tug. “I spent the whole night with you, Princess. It’s a little late for modesty.”

“It is never too late for corporate boundaries,” she said.

Her heart did a dangerous little flutter as she fought him for the throw.

She shifted, trying to get leverage, bracing her free hand against his stomach.

Her fingertips brushed the tattoo she hadn't stopped thinking about—the sharp coordinates in dark ink disappearing beneath the edge of the blanket.

Without really meaning to, she traced the edge of the numbers with her index finger.

Bennett went completely still.

His grip on the blanket slackened enough for her to secure it against her chest.

Aubrey looked up.

His gold-flecked eyes were fixed on her.

The playfulness was gone.

Heat wasn’t.

His gaze dropped to where her hands held the blanket. Traced the bare line of her shoulders. The curve of her collarbone.

Something changed in his expression. Taking her in with an intensity that stole her breath.

He looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Her breath caught.

“Still curious where those lead?” he asked.