That's when the craziest idea hit her. He said I'm hot. He considers me pretty, not like the other men in this world. I can use that against him.
Wish's expression shifted. Her racing heart steadied with newfound purpose. "No," she breathed, her voice dropping. "Not really. I misspoke."
Her hand slid up his chest, fingers splaying across his abs. The muscles tensed under her touch. She felt him go completely still.
"Who wouldn't want to touch these?" Her fingers traced the defined lines slowly, deliberately. "I'd be a fool not to take my opportunity."
She brought her face close to his, close enough that their breaths mingled. His mismatched eyes were conflicted, like he was arguing with himself—stay or flee, push away or pull closer.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No words came out.
"Where are your words now, your high current?" Wish whispered, her lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach her pounding heart.
