Feeling devilish myself, I turn to him. Then I cross my arms over my chest and sweep my gaze from the top of his very dark hair to the tips of his scuffed combat boots. And damn, but he has a right to that arrogant look, with his leather jacket that fits his broad chest to perfection and torn jeans that hang low on his hips.
“What?” he asks as he watches me with the same interest, his coy smile tugging his full mouth to one side.
“How would you like it if I stared at you like you were a big, tasty piece of meat?”
The dimples on his scruffy cheeks deepen. “I’d love it.”
I huff. “I’m sure you would.”
He takes a step closer to me, his brown irises twinkling in the dim light of the hallway. “In case you want a better look.”
Cocking my head at his daring move, I run the tip of my finger over the top button of my crisp white shirt. As I intend, his eyes follow the movement. “Aren’t you scared of me? After all, I’m technically your boss.”
Laughing, he comes nearer. “Technicalities have a tendency to change. One moment you’re on top, the next…” His gaze rakes over me, touching every inch of my body, pausing at my lips on the way down.
“You want me on the bottom then?” I release a slow breath, enjoying the game he’s playing much more than I should.
“We can do it any way you’d like.”
He takes another step toward me, and his pant legs graze my own. “You smell good,” he growls near my ear. “Will, is it?”
“It’s Boss Willow to you.” I glance at him through my long lashes as I run my hand over the hills and valleys of his hard chest. It’s a touch meant to seduce, as much as it is to warn, that if he comes closer, he’ll feel the sting of my bite.
Adrian reaches for my hair, removing the three pins that hold it into a neat bun, and the heavy mass falls in messy waves around my face. He runs his fingers through it, then pulls it to his nose, shuts his eyes, and inhales deeply. When he looks at me again, he seems dazed. Drugged almost.
“I’ve always had a thing for redheads. Especially bossy ones.”
“How many bossy redheads have you met?”
“Just one,” he whispers, his mouth so near mine, his breath grazes me. But he stops a moment before it makes contact, his gaze shifting downward when he feels the six-inch blade I hold to his throat.
“Haven’t you heard that in nature, the color red is a warning? You could die if you come too close.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing over the knife. Yet he doesn’t move away.
Instead, he pushes against the hard steel until a thin drop of blood forms on the tip and travels downward toward the hilt. Then his pupils dilate to the point where the irises practically disappear, and the insane heat in his expression makes my heart race. Lifting his hand to my mouth, he traces it with his fingertips. “Something tells me a taste of your lips is worth the risk.”
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