My body leaps. For a second I just stand there, Julia in my arms. Both of us breathing hard.

For a second, she lets me hold her.

A second I read way too much into. Poor thing nearly broke her face. She’s startled, that’s all. Startled into stillness.

Her lingering in my arms has nothing to do with her feelings on how well our bodies fit together, despite their difference in size. It has nothing to do with the hot wash of energy that floods my skin and the air around us.

Tension so thick it hangs between us like the humidity on a hot July day.

So thick I can hardly breathe.

I’m sorry, I want to say.

“You okay?” I say instead. I don’t recognize my voice.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Her hand unfurls against my chest. The movement is small but trusting.

My heart clenches with a protective urge I haven’t felt in ages. Julia is not helpless. Girl’s got a spine of steel. But here in my arms, she’s vulnerable. Open.

Real.

“You sure? How about your ankle? Can you move it?”

Her hair falls across her face as she looks down. Lifts her leg and rolls her ankle, making the muscles in her calf ripple against her smooth skin.

Lord. Have. Mercy.

“Feels fine.”

I let out a silent sigh of relief. “Good. Julia, please be careful.”

She looks up at me. Eyes curious as they move between mine. I’ve noticed she likes it when I say her name. The blue in her eyes—it brightens.

Her hand is still on my chest.

“You know, that’s only the second time I’ve heard you say ‘please.’”

I clear my throat. Swimming in ferocious need, heat gathering between my legs.

I’ll make you say please.

I’ll make you beg.

“You said it yourself,” I manage. “I’m rude. And rude people don’t say ‘please.’”

“But you just did.”

“Be honest. Did you come all the way out here just to call me out on my bullshit?”

She grins, digging her teeth into her bottom lip.

Loooooord.

I should not flirt with this woman. But I can’t seem to help myself.

Not when she’s touching me like this. Not when I’ve made her smile. A smile she’s turning on me. Warmth like the sun spreading through my skin.

Considering I’ve lived under a cloud the past three years, it feels really fucking nice.

“Surely you’ve picked up on two things about me,” she says. “One, I am making the budget work. And two, I very much enjoy calling you out. Sometimes I think you do it on purpose—you throw me these lay-ups, just to see if I’ll rise to the occasion.”

It’s like we’re playing truth or dare, and we keep exchanging truths.

Wrong that I want a dare?

“I’ve never met anyone as quick or full of conviction as you are, I’ll give you that,” I say.

“I’m anti-bullshit,” she replies. “Can’t help it.”

“I like that about you,” I say without thinking. “There are way too many superficial people in the world. In my world, at least.”