She tried to speak—but her tongue didn’t want to move, thick and heavy in her aching, so very heated mouth. He was so close. Close enough that she could pick out every fine grain of dark stubble, rough as sandpaper, along the incisively sharp lines of his cheeks and jaw; close enough that his long lashes mingled with hers. Those lashes swept down as his gaze gravitated to her lips. Every breath rang too loud between them, a pull and sigh that drew on her until she could feel nothing but the tingling in her fingertips and the glimmering fire in the pit of her stomach and the warmth rising off him like heat-shimmer waves on asphalt.
"Don’t you?" he repeated softly, and she watched every supple twist of his lips as they formed around the words. It would be so easy to just…lean closer and…
No. She jerked back with a sharp gasp, pressing a hand over the tightness in her chest and staring at him. She couldn’t do this. Not with him. He was a liar, and she couldn’t let herself get sucked into his magnetism again.
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