“I indulge you by playing your little games, but don’t push your luck.” “My luck?” I breathed, heart racing violently, as I watched him watch me. “Your luck,” he confirmed. “There’s only so far you can push me.” I could do nothing but stare at his face and resist the urge to slap it – or kiss it. I wasn’t sure which. “I’m not Ricey. I won’t kiss your cheek and hold your hand,” he added, tone heated. “You keep goading me into touching you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” His pupils dilated and my heart hammered recklessly against my ribcage.
