Nina's breath hastened, her cheeks burning as she wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to cover the soft, exposed curves of her upper body. The tension between them was a living thing, wrapping around her, threading through every shaky inhale.
Kafka's gaze stayed fixed on her, unwavering, a mixture of heat and curiosity in his eyes that made her plump thighs press together instinctively.
His fingers then wrapped around a Newton's cradle sitting on the counter, the thin metal bars and polished steel balls gleaming under the soft lighting. He lifted it, the soft clink of the spheres echoing between them.
"Does this mean anything to you, Nina?" He asked, his voice smooth, but there was something deliberate beneath the question, something that made her stomach flutter.
