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"I can feel you staring at me Still pissed?" He finally looks up, those deep brown eyesinto a full-on grin, and I can’t help but smile at him in return

"Why can’t I stay mad at you?"

"I don’t know My irresistible ways?" He raises his brows, ue a lot" The laughter fades I don’t kno I feel about that particular fact It’s disconcerting, how easily we fall into an argument and then into each other’s ar like it before

"They call it passion," he says

I go co between us It’s called passion" His s "You getatPassion"

He makes it sound so simple But it’s not It feels terribly cos, as if it’s no big deal Which, of course, infuriates me

"Have you ever experienced this with someone else?" I ask That has to be the reason for his total nonchalance over it He talks of passion like it’s nothing special, while I sit here filled with it I feel like a bottle of Chane that’s been shaken up soacross the roo out in a white frothy mess

That’s me I’m the white frothy mess

His jaorks and he leans back, as if he needs the distance "No," he says, his voice short And he doesn’t look very happy about it, either

Pleasure fills me at his admission and I want to say more, but the waitressthem in front of us before she takes our dinner order

"What are you drinking?" he asks after the waitress leaves

"It’s called a Trafalgar Tease" I swirl the thin red straw in the glass, ht alcohol

"I should call you a Trafalgar Tease," he says, his voice deepening in that way of his that makes me think of naked skin and twisted sheets and sex