Page 23 of Vicious Temptation

I should tell him to leave. The problem is, I don’t want to. That realization bothers me enough that I almost do it anyway.

But I spend so much time questioning people’s intentions lately that I’ve forgotten how easy it can be to enjoy someone without knowing what comes next. Thiago makes me laugh, and for tonight, maybe that can be enough.

“I haven’t eaten,” I say.

His eyebrow lifts. “Are you asking me to dinner?”

I guess I could have phrased that better.

“Absolutely not.”

“Sounded like it.”

“I’m hungry, and you put a hole in my ceiling. You can buy me food.”

“I didn’t put the hole in your ceiling.”

“Minor details.”

His smile widens as he reaches for his bag. “All right. Where are we going?”

My gaze drops to his bare chest before I can stop it.

“You’re not going anywhere like that.”

He looks down at himself, then back at me. “I thought you liked me like this.”

I roll my eyes and head for the door before my face gives him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right. “Come on.”

He follows me out of the office and down the stairs. I could still walk him to the front door and forget this entire idea before it becomes anything. But I lead him toward the shop.

One meal isn’t going to kill me.

By the time we reach the retail floor, I’ve committed to my questionable decision and move behind the counter to scan the shirts stacked along the shelves. At the very least, I’m about to get some entertainment out of it.

I grab the biggest navy Sloane’s T-shirt we carry and toss it at him. I’m not convinced it’ll fit, but he better make it work, because a shirtless Thiago is becoming a serious liability.

He catches it and holds it up, giving me a skeptical look. “This is the biggest you have?”

“Is there a problem?”

His eyes narrow slightly before he tugs it over his head without another word. I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Just like I expected, the fabric stretches across his chest and arms like it’s fighting for its life, and the hem stops several inches too high, exposing a strip of skin above his waistband.

Somehow, this is worse.

I let my gaze linger long enough to appreciate my terrible idea before forcing it back to his face.

Head in the game, Remi. Not in his pants.

My eyes immediately betray me and drop lower. When I look up again, Thiago is watching me with a grin. That cocky fuck knows exactly what I was looking at.

“Where to?” he asks.

I grab my bag from beneath the counter and walk past him. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That doesn’t inspire confidence.”