Page 5 of Cross Ice

“Exactly.” But his mouth twitched.

Pressing a hand to my chest, I said, “Harsh. I’m wounded.”

His gaze dropped to my chest and raked over my pecs. My abs. His eyes darkened, and I watched him swallow before he took a sip of his drink. “You’ll survive.” He looked at me over the rim of his glass. “You seem like the type who always does.”

“What type is that?”

“The type who’s used to getting what he wants.”

I leaned against the wall, studying him. “You’ve got me all figured out after ten minutes?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just haven’t wanted the right things yet.”

Something flickered in his eyes—interest, maybe, or wariness. Like he wasn’t sure if I was feeding him a line or telling the truth.

“That’s almost philosophical,” he said. “Didn’t expect that from a guy who looks like he bench presses small cars.”

Laughter burst out of me. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Are you?”

“Stick around and find out.”

He tilted his head, considering. “You’re very sure I want to stick around.”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“For now,” he said, but there was a challenge in the words. Like he was testing me, waiting to see if I’d push too hard or back off entirely.

That he wasn’t making it easy appealed to me. He had walls I’d have to actually work to get past. His eyes kept dropping to my mouth when he thought I wasn’t looking.

The heat in the club was stifling, so I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over my arm. Evan’s eyes followed the movement and tracked the flex of my biceps, lingered on the expanse of my chest, traced the line where my shirt stretched across my shoulders. When his gaze returned to my face, his pupils were blown wide and his breathing had gone shallow.

Attraction crackled between us like electricity.

My gaze raked his body. His blazer framing his square shoulders, his long fingers wrapped around his glass, his full lips that would surround my⁠—

Lust hit me hard. Need made me ache.

“You’re staring,” he said quietly.

“So are you.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I know.”

The air between us felt charged. Dangerous. Like one of us just needed to say the word, and we’d both stop pretending this was just a conversation.

Maybe thirty minutes had passed when I leaned forward and spoke into his ear. “Want to get out of here?”

Both too soon and not soon enough.

Hesitation played out on his face, the same internal debate I’d had in the parking garage. Risk versus reward. Safety versus recklessness. The smart choice versus what he actually wanted.

I watched him fight with himself. Saw the moment caution started losing.

“We can go to a hotel,” I offered. Neutral territory. Less risky for both of us.