“Very much so.” I move closer to him. I put my hand on his thigh. He glances down at it, then up at me. Slightly amused. “My hand is on your thigh,” I tell him. “I noticed.” He smiles, and my breath hitches at the sight. Then he chuckles. “I love how you announce your move. ‘My hand is on your thigh,’” he mimics. “You know, most people would just make the move and then wait to see if it works.” “What can I say? I’m a rebel.” “Got it. So, what’s the next move, rebel?” he asks with uncharacteristic playfulness. “Ask me if you can kiss me.” His eyes grow heavy-lidded. “Can I kiss you?” “No,” I
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