With his body angled in front of her, she had nowhere to look but at his broad chest. Her fingers itched to burrow beneath his shirt and tease his nipple to life. The taste of him, the feel of him against her tongue—
Stop it, Liv!
She would have to add no sucking to her mantra.
When she forced her gaze away from so much male temptation, she was ensnared by a pair of rich, brown, all-too-knowing eyes.
“What would you say if I told you I didn’t like the idea of you talking to other guys?”
If any other man had said those words to her, she would have ceased any further communication with him. Guys who got that possessive after such a brief acquaintance would be nothing but trouble, notwithstanding the creep factor.
But hearing Zeke’s low baritone rumble out the question sent a silent, heart-fluttering thrill through her.
“I would say go get a puppy. You’re obviously in need of affection.”
“Admit it, Westcott. You want me.”
A flush bloomed at the base of her neck. “Are you trying to knock me off balance before meeting your team? Is this some sort of payback for Cameron?”
“Zeke, are you coming in”—a voice blared out from a speaker two feet away—“or are you going to stand out there all day, making calf-eyes at the agent?”
Zeke’s sensual smile disappeared. He lifted his hand to the camera and flipped the onlooker the bird.
“We’ll resume this conversation later.” Before she could protest, he put a hand on the small of her back and nudged her inside.