"What do you think of me, Xavier?"
He didn't answer. Not right away. His eyes slid over her face, then trailed lower, drinking her in with a gaze that lingered too long to be casual. The silence stretched, long enough to make her chest tighten.
"Xavier," she pressed again, this time softer, but edged with frustration. "What do you think of me?"
Instead of words, he reached forward and caught her hand. His grip was firm yet gentle.
Angel froze, her breath catching as he guided her hand down, her mind racing a mile a minute.
"Xavier… what are you—"
Their eyes locked, his unreadable, hers wide with confusion. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let her, gently but insistently leading her until her fingers brushed something hot and solid through the loosened fabric at his waist. The next heartbeat, her hand was wrapped around it.
