Page 7 of The KING Review

Especially because even though he’s right—I don’t know him—I’m pretty certain there’s not a malicious bone in this man’s body. He’s not capable of manipulating someone in that way. I just don’t believe he has it in him.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t want that?” I say, teasing in my tone to lighten the mood.

His gaze drops. “Nobody wants that.”

All right—time for plan B.

I rub my hands together. “Okay, well… How about we level the playing field? We remove some of the cues. You’re an expert in readable body language, right?”

Grant searches my face, then says, very carefully, “Yes.”

“So… maybe we could agree to only communicate via text message and voice notes.”

“Voice is body,” Grant says quickly, his tone rough. It pours low and slow like honey, dripping into my belly, hot and sweet and pooling. “I can still read body language equivalency in your voice.”

I huff a laugh—I really can’t help it—then lean in slightly. Grant fights not to mirror the movement. “Stop it,” I say quietly. “Stop being so fucking sexy. I swear to God, I will bend you over right here in the quad.”

His lips part, drawing my eye, then his pupils dilate—no way he can hide that. This poor man is fighting for his life. I take my chance to pull out the slip of paper in the pocket of my jeans, with my number already written on it in pink. I know this means he’ll know I was planning to ambush him—but as I said to him, I don’t play mind games.

Only fun games, like this one.

“This is for you,” I tell him. “If you ever want to give up the whole gentleman act—which, for the record, I can’t wait to see—I bet you won’t be able to resist messaging me.”

Grant snorts a laugh, but it’s strained. “Yeah, because the whole bet thing worked out so well for Cade and your sister, right?”

I pop a shoulder in a shrug. “They’re getting married—aren’t they?”

His eyes flash in the midday sun. “Are you saying you want to marry me, Neve? You know, that definitely didn’t work out for me before.”

“Are you flirting with me, Doctor King?” I hold up the slip of paper. “I haven’t even given you this yet. Am I already winning?”

“No,” he deadpans.

I’m not sure which question he’s responding to, but it doesn’t really matter. I step right into his space and slip the piece of paper into his pocket, letting my hand linger a little too long. I can feel the heat of his body through the denim. My knee brushes his leg, and that warmth spreads into me.

“I bet I’ll have you begging to see me in person—begging to touch me—in no time,” I whisper, still not retracting my hand.

“You’re touching me now,” he says quietly, but he doesn’t move away either.

“But you’re not touching me.” I affect a mock pout. “Am I tempting you?”

He opens his mouth to speak, then seems to think better of it. He frowns down at me as I take my hand out of his pocket and pat the side of his thigh. I bite my tongue, letting my gaze roam over him as I step back. He’s hot as hell. Thick thighs, broad shoulders, wide chest, soft stomach. I want to touch him all over—but I have to know he wants that, too.

“The ball is in your court, Doctor,” I sing-song, turning to gather my books and my coffee cup from the fountain wall. “But anybody who knows me knows that I always have an extra card up my sleeve.”

Chapter Four

Hypothetically

Grant

There’s a slip of paper burning a damn hole in the pocket of my jeans.

I can’t message her. I can’t message her. I can’t message her.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I tell myself, the words don’t want to settle anywhere that matters.

I’ve made dinner—Thai yellow curry and black rice—eaten, washed all the dishes, and picked up around my apartment. Sera isn’t back for another five days, and truthfully—though I’d likely never admit it to anybody, even Cade—I hate being here alone.