Nina's breath hitched, the sound catching in her throat as a sharp, audible gasp. The air in the cramped, dimly lit hallway felt as though it had been sucked away entirely. Her palms lay flat against the solid, unyielding wall of his chest, but he didn't budge an inch.
He felt like granite beneath her fingertips… warm, living granite that radiated heat through the thin fabric of his shirt. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and unhurried, a maddening contrast to her own frantic pulse.
She narrowed her eyes, boring into his with a volatile mix of fury and genuine bewilderment. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm she prayed he couldn't feel through the minimal space between them.
The proximity made her dizzy, though whether from anger or something more dangerous, she refused to examine. "You have got to be kidding me, Mr. Grant," she said, her voice tight. "This isn't a movie. You don't just... mean it."
