Rita's Point Of View
"Nothing," Charles said, though his tone carried such exaggerated innocence that it practically broadcast trouble. His hands, however, told a different story entirely. They had already traveled from my waist down to my hips, roaming lower with a slow, deliberate confidence that sent my brain spiraling into complete meltdown.
That stupid, boyish grin remained plastered on his face… the same one that had upended my world twenty-five years ago and seemed determined to stage an encore today. I knew that look intimately. It meant danger. It meant I was already losing whatever battle I thought I was fighting.
Some things never changed, and Charles's ability to disarm me with a single expression apparently topped that list.
