"You're wondering if I touched her. If I held her the way I hold you."
He reached out, his thumb grazing her jawline, his touch deceptively tender.
"The answer is no. I spent the night in the guest room because the thought of being in this room with you and not being able to touch you without seeing that look of loathing in your eyes was more than I wanted to deal with."
Anastasia's breath hitched. The honesty was more disarming than his arrogance.
"So you just let me wait?" she whispered, the hurt slipping through her armor before she could stop it.
"You let her parade around like she owned the place just so you could hide in your books?"
"You stood your ground. You looked like a true Ramirez."
He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers.
Anastasia felt her resolve crumbling. It was easy to hate him when he was the monster in the foyer, but it was terrifyingly hard when he was this close, speaking in whispers that felt like they were vibrating through her bones.
