YENA
On some sort of embarrassed impulse, I actually reached up to my mouth and wiped it with my hand.
There was no drool.
I felt my face get hot.
It was unbelievable. He had such a skill for pushing my buttons. And could do it so fast.
He took one step forward and leaned against the door frame. We were face to face at a sort of four-way intersection of dark, empty hallways.
Nolan was tall and broad, and cast a shadow that enveloped me in darkness.
“Stop f*****g with me,” I said.
“Well,” he replied, “you were the one eye-f*****g me first.”
The dim moonlight drifting in through the windows hit his eyes and lit them up. They were hard like stone, deep green in shadow, and staring down at me with the prince’s signature brand of smoldering condescension.
A rush of desperate desire
