Page 70 of Mario
“You are not trouble.” He says it so simply.
I am losing.
I am losing badly.
“I can’t—” I start.
“Give me your keys, Victoria.”
The way he says my name is a warning, a command.
A promise.
And I am too tired to fight it.
Too tired to do anything but obey.
My fingers tremble as I uncurl them from the keys. The metal is warm from my grip, the plastic of the key fob smooth.
I hold them out.
He steps closer. He doesn’t just take them.
His fingers close over mine.
His skin is warm, rough. A shock that goes straight up my arm, down my spine, and right between my legs.
I freeze.
My breath catches.
His gaze drops to our hands, to where my fingers are trapped beneath his, and I see his jaw tighten.
I feel it.
I feel the awareness between us. The same one that has been haunting my dreams for nearly two weeks.
It is not a dream now.
It is very, very real.
His thumb brushes over the back of my hand with a stroke that is far more intimate than it has any right to be.
It is a touch that says, I know. I feel it too.
And then, just as quickly as it happened, it is over.
He takes the keys.
He steps back.
The spell is broken.
He separates the fob from the rest of my keys with a twist of his thumb and holds them out to me.
I take them, careful not to touch his hand. “Thank you.”
He gives a short, sharp nod.
