There was a flicker of something dark in his eyes. A shark fin carving it's way through such welcoming blue waters. Evident, if only for a second, that he didn't intend to let her go. Not at first, anyway. Anne pulled at her arm, and in the movement, Trenton's fingers unfurled from her wrist. Some kind of recognition stirring in him with the draw of a breath and when he sank back from Anne, it was with no sign of the starved masculinity that had flared him against her so spontaneous.
"The painting, yes. Thank you." The words sounded a little hollow to him, and Trenton ran a hand over his face. "Really."