He didn't answer her question directly, but his eyes spoke volumes.
There was a gleam there. Cocky and unrepentant, like he fully owned the mess he'd made. Not sorry for the wine spilled, not sorry for trapping her here, away from the others.
Then, softer, his voice lowered to something almost fragile. "I'm sorry, you've been avoiding me."
The tenderness caught her off guard, soft and almost vulnerable. Like for once, he wasn't teasing or hiding behind clever words. Just him, stripped of all defenses.
She tried to mask her fluttering heart with sarcasm. "And you thought, yeah, the perfect thing to do was ruin her skirt," she said, brushing at the stain one last time.
His eyes traced her body with deliberate care, slow and knowing. The way the fabric hugged her thighs made heat spark behind his gaze before he looked back up, darker now, laced with a tension that felt almost palpable. The intensity of his gaze, made her wish she hadn't asked that question.
