"I... I didn't mean it like that," she stammered, her eyes darting everywhere but his face as she searched desperately for an escape from the conversational trap he had so expertly laid. Her fingers twisted in her lap, betraying her agitation. "I was just... I was venting about my father cutting off my budget! It was an idiom! A figure of speech!"
"An idiom," Lucas repeated, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous purr as his hand released her wrist. His long, calloused fingers trailed with agonizing slowness up the bare, sensitive skin of her forearm, leaving a wake of static electricity and creeping goosebumps in their path. The deliberate touch sent her pulse racing, her breath catching in her throat.
