Page 66 of Paws & Order

Mostly because neither of us seems particularly interested in them anymore.

We start with good intentions. We really do.

Ten minutes later, we're sitting side by side on the couch pretending to discuss Theodore Whitmore.

"Maybe she left."

"Maybe."

"Maybe he left."

"Maybe."

A pause.

Neither of us is paying attention. At all.

Finally, I close the folder.

Cassian doesn't even pretend to object.

"Productive," I say.

"Extremely."

The corner of his mouth lifts. I should probably move. Instead, I stay exactly where I am. Close enough that our legs touch. Close enough that I can feel his warmth.

The silence settles around us.

Comfortable.

Dangerous.

His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.

Then returns to my eyes.

My heart immediately forgets its job.

"Cassian."

His voice is rough. "Yeah?"

I should say something intelligent. Something meaningful.

Instead:

"You keep looking at me like that."

A slow smile appears. "Like what?"

I narrow my eyes. "You know exactly what."

"Maybe."

The man is impossible. And entirely too attractive.

I don't realize I've leaned closer until his hand settles against my waist.