Something brushes my arm, a whisper against my skin. My head whips to the side, eyes crashing into blue ones below. She looks up at me through her lashes, eyes burning into mine, full of fire. Her hand hovers just above the exposed skin on my arm, teasing without touching. “What are you doing, Gray?” I ask, turning my attention back toward the target. “Distracting,” she says slowly, drawing out the syllables. Her hand brushes my arm again, lightly. So lightly. I smile. “Darling, you’re going to have to do better than that.” “No,” she says coolly, “I don’t think I do.”
