“It’s a bad habit.” I meet his eyes. They’re a shade of gray much lighter than my own. “Maybe you should help me stop thinking.” His lips curve. “Mmm. How am I supposed to do that?” “You seem like a creative guy. Come up with a creative solution.” Those silvery eyes gleam half a second before he cups my cheek with one hand. I’m not drunk enough to be doing this. In fact, I’m sober enough to know it’s probably a terrible idea.
