Levi curls a finger beneath my chin. “You know what, kitten?” “Hm?” I nearly squeak, and I know—I know—I’m drunk on him. “I think your parents would be proud. But if they aren’t, I am.” For a fragment of a second, his eyes are on my lips, and my breath holds, and I don’t know if anyone’s watching, or if he even actually wants to, but I want him to kiss me so badly it’s an ache in my chest that pours a flush over my skin. He doesn’t. Nodding toward the board, he lets his fingers pull away as he says, “It’s your turn.”
