“Flirted with you?” I shouted. “Flirted with you? As I recall, Luther Corbois, it’s always been you who can’t keep your hands off me.” He opened his mouth to respond. I silenced him with a finger jabbed into his chest, heat rising to my cheeks. “I wouldn’t flirt with you if you were the last living man on this miserable fucking continent.” Sparks flew in his slate blue eyes. Liar, they seemed to say.
