That wasn't even fair. How was she supposed to leave and have a decent night's sleep now? He had skewed her words and made them sexual, made her think about it, and now he seemed to be thinking about it...how was she supposed to leave now?
Her fingers, previously at her mouth, dropped down to trail over the opening of her lace robe. They sat their, toying at the edge of silk, debating on whether to do the right, smart thing and keep it closed, or be absolutely reckless and open for a peek.
They were both making this absolutely, horribly difficult on one another. It was like a game she would play, on anyone else. Except this time she was just as horribly randy as she made all of those men. Damn it! Why couldn't she just have this conversation sober?
"Zach," she spoke, voice already lined with warmth. "You're making me mad." Did he want her to go crazy? Because he was getting her very, very close. Dragging in a deep breath, her fingers slid up the edge of her robe, coming in to contact with damask skin.
"If you want me to leave, you need to tell me. Now." While she still had some semblance of self control.