His hair was tussled; a shadow lined his square jaw. His icy eyes were sleep h...eavy but the predatory gleam in them made her body quicken in response. She was supposed to be staying as far from this man as possible, not admiring him.
“Is your hair dyed?” she blurted. It was the most inane question but it had been meant as a way to distract herself from the urge to jump him.
He frowned as he ran a hand through his platinum blond hair. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would dye his hair?”
“You look like the kind of guy who would rip off someone’s head and use it as a soccer ball so I imagine you’d be up for anything.”
A smirk curved his luscious mouth. “I can assure you Dewdrop, I’m not much for soccer but I am one hundred percent natural. I was simply blessed with these abnormally striking good looks.” Well no one could ever accuse him of having no self-confidence or being shy, she realized. “I can always prove I’m a natural blond if you’d like me to,” he added with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.
There wasn’t one drop of saliva left in her mouth but as enticing as the proposition was, and she wasn’t above admitting it was extremely enticing, it could never happen. “Thanks but no,” she responded with more composure than she felt.
“Your mouth says no but your eyes say yes.”
Her skin felt like it crackled as fury slithered over her. How he’d managed to survive for as long as he had without someone killing him completely mystified her. She may be the one to remedy that by the time she was able to free herself from him. “Believe me that’s not what my eyes are saying,” she bit out.
“Murder and passion are a fine line, no?”
“Ugh!” she shouted. She threw her hands up, turned on her heel and stormed into the kitchen. Peanut butter cups and Mountain Dew weren’t going to be enough to take the edge off.