“Nah. I’m a man. I smoulder. Check it.” He takes a sip of his beer, then tosses me a side-ways look so full of heat my mouth goes dry. My insides knot as his icy-blue eyes fix on mine, then flicker down my body. Sparks prickle across my skin. He’s looking at me like he wants to peel my clothes right off me. He holds my gaze for a few beats, then turns back to his pint. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hypnotise you, lass. My smoulder is pretty potent.” I swallow. “How did you do that?” “I imagined my face between your legs,” he says casually, taking another sip of beer. I choke on air.
Delightful.
