I felt his breath against the back of my neck when he leaned in, nose brushing the top of my spine, and I was sure he would whisper something soft and romantic, or, even better, perhaps an invitation to have him right then and there. But instead he whispered, “Monty . . . are you flexing?” “What?” Thank God it was dark, for I felt myself go red to my toes. “Of course not.” “Christ, you are shameless.” “Well, I’m trying to impress you!”
