The air in the sitting room grew heavy, the academic discussion about lattice scoring and dimensional substrates acting as nothing more than a thin, fragile veil over the raw tension vibrating between them. Rex watched her carefully, noting the way her eyes lingered a fraction too long on his lips and the way her breathing hitched ever so slightly when he leaned in to point at a diagram.
He knew exactly what she was doing. She was hiding behind the sanctity of her position, using the "science" of the fragments to mask the primal hunger clawing at her insides.
Rex shifted his weight, moving with a predator's grace. He leaned in closer, ostensibly to examine the notes on the table, but he didn't stop until the heat from his muscular, tanned chest was practically radiating against her shoulder.
He leaned toward her ear, his breath hot and deliberate against her skin, and whispered in a low, gravelly tone that cut through her professional composure like a blade.
