“Miss me, mate?”
“I didn’t.”
He laughs—quiet and low, the kind that slides down my spine and settles somewhere inconvenient.
“You’re lying,” he says calmly, his eyes skimming over my face as if he’s reading something written beneath my skin. “I can see it in your eyes. And in the way your heart is trying to beat its way into mine.” His gaze drops to my lips. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Why would I wait for you?” I scoff. “I left you, remember? I escaped from your room.” I give him a smug little smile. “Pretty memorable, actually.”
His eyes darken. “And you will pay for that.”
I lift a brow. “Threat or promise?”
“Both. But I must say, mate…” He hums, amused. “You’re either very clumsy, or you enjoy falling into my arms. Not that I’m complaining.”
I realize—too late, with a sharp jol
