She was pinned against the door. His foxlike eyes lowered, his breath brushing over her lips.
“Scared?”
Shen Qingci didn’t back away. She hooked a finger around his tie and pulled him down until their noses nearly touched. Her voice was as soft as a blade drawn across glass.
“Are you standing this close because you want to see me tremble, or because you’re afraid you’ll be the first to lose control?”
Fu Xiuhuai’s gaze darkened. He caught her wrist and pinned it above her head, while his other hand hovered half an inch from her waist. Through the thin fabric, that almost-but-not-quite warmth was more deadly than a touch.
His lips brushed her ear, but never quite landed.
“Your heartbeat,” he chuckled, “is too loud.”
“Likewise.” She looked up with a coy smile.
Two people pretending to hold it together, each waiting for the other to fall first.
