Alina
For a long, embarrassing moment, I forget how to speak. The words are at the tip of my tongue, but Adrian’s eyes are boring holes through my face and into my brain, cutting off the part that connects to speech.
“Then again,” he murmurs, “I doubt you had any time between the jobs and shifts you had to pick up to learn how to dance.”
He releases my hand abruptly and I lose my footing a bit. Adrian’s eyes dance with curiosity as he folds his arms. “My brother is…reckless. He does things as he wants, with no regard of how it affects others, as long as he’s having fun. I would’ve expected you to know better, Miss Wilson.”
His gaze trails over my body with barely a flicker of interest—not like the gaping stare the bartender gave. And yet, heat travels down the path his eyes take, po
