“Why would you make me nervous?” His eyes roam over my pallor, which is beaded with sweat. “Because you’re warm,” he notes. He redirects his attention to the pulse pounding in my neck. “Because your heart’s racing.” I try to evade his gaze, feeling a little too picked apart under this stranger’s microscope, but the action itself only incriminates me. “And because you refuse to look at me.” Willing my blush to fade, I force myself to make eye contact with him. “Maybe I just don’t like you.” “I know I should feel emasculated, but that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Don’t know if
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