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Chris made himself at home, looking around without much commentary from me. He stepped on a small ladder and pushed one of the ceiling panels out of the way. I had no idea what he was doing, but his shirt rose, and I saw a sliver of his stomach, precisely where his happy trail began and disappeared into his light-wash jeans.
I salivated at the image.
“Sav?” he asked, pulling my attention away from his abdomen. His eyebrow quirked as he fought a laugh. He pointed at his face. “Get a good look? ‘Cause my eyes are up here.”
My cheeks heated as I turned away. “You’re not funny.”
He scoffed. “I am totally funny.”
“If by funny you mean ‘a jerk,’ then yeah, your stupid teasing is rip-roaring hilarious, Chris.”
I shook my head, facing him again. And I could have sworn his gaze lingered on my ass before he looked away fast like he’d done something wrong.
Was he checking me out, too? He’d made it pretty clear I wasn’t his type, so it must have been my hopeful imagination.
I hated that he was so hot. It wasn’t fair.
He jumped down from the ladder and approached me slowly.
“Look, we’re going to have to work together on this renovation, so we need to get along. If you think me teasing you is being a jerk, I’ll try to lay off. But you also make yourself such an easy target. You care way too much.”
The ass was still teasing me.
“No, I don’t,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “I don’t care what you think,” I lied.
He tilted his head. “Fine. Whatever. But I care whatyouthink, and I want you to like me enough for us to get along through this transition. We have to be around each other, at least until the renovation is done, and I don’t want it to be a constant fight. Can we please call a truce?”
I nibbled on my lip. His dark eyes seemed earnest, and his stance was open. He didn’t seem defensive or blocked off. His face also matched his genuine tone, and it didn’t seem like he was making fun of me. I didn’t want to be in a position where I trusted him again because I knew where that would lead, and it wasn’t anywhere good. But I didn’t feel like I had much choice.
With a sigh, I relented. “Fine. Yes. A truce.”
His lips shifted into a smile, and butterflies erupted in my stomach. I was going to be sick.
“Excellent. Shake on it?” He offered his hand.
One of the hottest things about Chris was his hands. It was stupid, but I always thought of them as essentially hand porn.
They were large with the right amount of roughness to be considered manly. He kept them clean, too, and his nails were always perfectly trimmed.
I’d felt them slide over my body and tug at my hair once, and the moment was seared onto my brain forever.
Slowly, I placed my palm against his. His thick fingers wrapped around my hand, and we shook on it. His skin was warm and firm. I gazed at him, enjoying the up-close look I got at his high cheekbones and dark brown eyes. His strong eyebrows softened, and he smiled.
Neither of us let the other’s hand go, and we stood there for a moment.
I felt his thumb caress the back of my hand and I bit my lip, fighting the urge to throw myself into his arms.
“Great,” he said, breaking the spell and stepping back. “I’ll be by tomorrow and give you my notes on everything. I appreciate the tour.”
His expression softened a little more. “And the truce.”
He followed me down the stairs to the main floor, and because I’m a dork who can trip over her own feet, I stumbled halfway down.
“Whoa,” he said, grabbing me from behind with one strong arm and pulling me against him. I’d have fallen if not for him.
His chest was hard against my back. And to my embarrassment, my ass was pressed firmly against his crotch.
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly, shaken from my near tumble.
