Christopher was maddeningly oblivious—or at least pretending to be. His broad shoulders flexed subtly under his fitted shirt as he leaned over the stove, his focus seemingly fixed on the pan in front of him.
But Vivian knew better. He was doing it on purpose. She could feel it in the tension that charged the air, in the smug, calculated way he moved, and in the unbearable ache he’d left throbbing between her thighs.
Her jaw clenched, her breaths uneven as she watched him, her eyes narrowing with equal parts frustration and need. Why was he doing this? Was it some twisted form of payback? Or was he just toying with her for his own amusement?
Her thighs pressed together instinctively, a futile attempt to ease the heat pooling at her core. But it only made it worse. The wetness between he
