Rip’s chin tipped down lower, drawing his face even closer to mine. “Can we be done with this?” he asked, his voice rough and so low I could barely hear him. I held my breath. “With what?” That incredibly handsome face stayed remote, but those eyes… “With the Mister Ripley shit. With that tone. With you not wanting to talk to me or ask me for fucking help.” That chin dipped, and I’d swear I could feel his breath on my face in tiny puffs. “With you freezing me out.”
