Page 56 of Auctioned to the Devil

Maybe nobody leaves.

Maybe nobody dies.

His gaze holds mine.

“You done analyzing me?”

“Probably not.”

“Figured.”

I put my wineglass down behind him.

His eyes follow the movement.

When I straighten, there’s barely an inch between us.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“For?”

“The store.”

“Okay.”

“You can’t nearly break every man’s wrist for touching me.”

“Didn’t say I would.”

“Good.”

“Depends where he touches you.”

My breath catches.

There he is again.

Bold.

Unfiltered.

Dangerous in an entirely different way.

“You’re impossible.”

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“And I’m not yours.”

His eyes darken. “I know.”

The answer should make me relax.

It doesn’t.

Because his gaze drops to my mouth.

“Then stop looking at me like I am.”