lifted a hand—hesitated, and then brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. His callused fingers scraped against her cheekbone, then caressed the shell of her ear. It was foolish to even start down this road, when every other man she’d let in had left some wound, in one way or another, accidentally or not. There was nothing soft or tender on his face. Only a predator’s glittering gaze. “When we get back,” he said, “remind me to prove you wrong about every thought that just went through your head.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?” He gave her a sly smile that made thinking
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