She frowned. "Haven't they? You were mean to me in the beginning."
He tilted his head slightly. "Was I?"
Frustration flared. "Will you stop with the two word questions? Just trust me, please. I can handle myself."
"Fine. Is that all?" he asked, reclaiming her ankle.
"No."
"Godfucking damnit," he muttered under his breath. "What is it this time?"
The irritation was theatrical, but the undercurrent was real. She had been steering him all night. Pulling him toward heat, then shifting the subject. Asking for trust. Mentioning Cassidy. Wanting freedom.
"Goodnight," she said lightly.
Before he could respond, she slipped her legs from his hands and stood. The flip flops he had abandoned earlier still lay on the floor. She stepped around him slowly, her fingers trailing up the back of his neck, brushing the short hair at his nape, grazing the sensitive place just below his ear.
