“You know, if I wasn’t such a confident guy, your staring would have made me self-conscious.” The teasing whisper has my eyes bulging as I gulp air like a fish out of water. “I wasn’t staring,” I argue. He arches a brow and leans toward me, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers mere inches from my thigh. “No? Because I was.” I twist in my seat and stare at him open-mouthed. “Pink is your colour,” he murmurs. His eyes trail over my skin and goosebumps follow. “I didn’t know I had a colour. I thought I looked good in everything.”
