When I sniff the air, I can smell tomatoes and mozzarella. But underneath it is the faintest whiff of perfume.
“Did you dress up just for me, Jessa?” I ask.
That gets me exactly the response I was searching for. She scrunches up her nose in disgust and pretends to look insulted. “I haven’t dressed up at all.”
“Really?” I ask, my gaze sliding down to the swell of her cleavage. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“You’re a textbook narcissist. Of course you think everything is about you.”
“Tell me, do you always wear perfume at the end of the day?”
She stiffens a little, probably contemplating whether she should lie or just tell the truth. “Yes. It makes me feel good.”
“Makes sense,” I say sarcastically, causing her expression to twist into annoyance. But I can see through her. I can see the self-consciousness she’s trying to mask.
“Well?”
“Well?” she parrots back.
I cock my head to the side. “I’m the wrong man to fuck with, Jessa.”
She stiffens slightly, but she maintains her position. “I’m not giving up the phone.”
“What did I tell you?” I say calmly. “You crave the drama.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Stop trying to pull reverse psychology on me. It won’t work.”
“What will work?” I ask, moving around her coffee table so that I’m standing right in front of her.
“Nothing,” she says. “I can’t be bought.”
“What about seduced?” I ask. “Can you be seduced?”
She betrays herself by jerking away from me so violently that not even she can deny the response. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“You’re overestimating your effect on me,” she mumbles, but there’s no sting in her voice when she says it.
I reach out and brush my fingers across her lips. The shudder that rolls through her body is subtle but unmistakable.
“No, I don’t think I am.” I move closer and she backs away immediately. “What’s the matter, Jessa? Doubting your resolve?”
She glares at me. “I think I prefer when you’re threatening my life.”
I smile. “I can see why. That affected you much less than this.”
I stroke her cheek with the back of my knuckles, leaving a hot blush when I withdraw my hand. The whole time, she stares up at me with those fuck me eyes, never blinking, never looking away.
I guide her backwards until there’s nowhere left to go, trapping her between myself and the window. Our hips meet flush. I’m hard as a rock and I don’t mind her knowing.
“Give me back my phone,” I rasp.
“I don’t have it on me,” she says, but her voice wavers.
“I told you yesterday that I would be back for it. Did you not believe me?”
“Maybe I just decided not to listen.”
My eyes flare. I lean closer. Inches apart now. The tension is a physical thing in the air. A scent, a crackle, a tightness in my chest.