CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
Hazel eyes embedded on a jaw-dropping face, filled with a look of tease. I was very much aware of him standing barely two paces away from me and well, his cologne didn’t smell so bad. It was subtle yet masculine in a way that draws you in.
“I didn’t say that,” he said, then reached for a glass to taste.
“So pinot girls are your type?” I pressed on, yet remaining very delicate about it. The last thing I’d want was him thinking that I was desperate for him. That would give him the power he wants over me and thank you very much, but it would be the last thing I do. The last time I let a man know I wanted him so bad, I gave him the power to kill me inside.
“I didn’t say that either,” he observed the color, smelled it, shrugged before taking a sip then placing the glass
