He noticed. Of course he did. It was impossible not to. The room wasn’t quiet—the muffled hum of traffic outside, the faint tick of the wall clock—but all he could hear was the sound of the thin silk strap sliding down her skin. She wasn’t in a hurry. That was the dangerous part. Most people fidget without thinking, but she did it like she was conducting an experiment—her eyes fixed on him, searching for the exact moment his breath would change.
The strap slipped past her collarbone, revealing the bare slope of her shoulder. She bit her lip—not in surprise, not in embarrassment, but with a small, knowing pressure, like she’d done this before and liked the result. His gaze caught the movement of her teeth pressing into that soft curve of skin, the faint swell of her lower lip, and the way her chin tilted forward just slightly—an unspoken dare.
He shifted in his seat, not because he needed to, but because her calm was starting to feel like a noose tightening. She reached for nothing in particular, adjusting her hair with her free hand, letting her elbow rise so that the thin fabric stretched across her chest. Every movement made the strap slide a fraction lower. She didn’t stop it. She didn’t even look down. She only kept her eyes on him, as if to say: This is your turn to react. Or not.
When the strap finally rested at the edge of her arm, she didn’t lift it back into place. Instead, she let it linger there, bare skin catching the light. He thought about looking away, about pretending he hadn’t noticed—but the truth was, she wanted him to. And he already had.