"I—" I started, but she shifted, and I swore my brain short-circuited.
Her thigh pressed between my legs, her hips just barely grazing mine.
I felt my face heat up.
"Wh-What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, trying to sound angry instead of… instead of whatever the hell this was.
Maeve tilted her head. "You tell me," she murmured, her voice low and taunting. "You're the one squirming."
I stopped immediately. Because damn it, I had been squirming. Her smirk widened.
"Cute," she teased.
I wanted to punch her.
Or kiss her.
Or—NO.
NO. STOP THAT, BRAIN.
"Get off me," I gritted out.
Maeve sighed dramatically, as if this was some huge inconvenience for her.
Then, instead of letting me go, she leaned down.
Closer. Too close.
I could see every detail of her face. The sharp curve of her jaw, the faint scar along her cheek, the mischief in her eyes.
