Exasperated, Kyle repeated his words once more, “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it—please, continue,” I urged him. As a result of his uniform being buttoned so tightly up to his throat, the scent was faint. Certain of what it was, I stopped focusing my energy on trying to locate the smell and instead fixed my gaze on a point somewhere on his chest.
“I cannot fathom your thoughts. Your stare is not going to unlock any secrets,” Kyle remarked, his words edged with a trace of irritation.
Shifting with an odd sense of discomfort under the intensity of my stare, Kyle gently pushed me away while taking a step back. I watched him closely, taking note of every detail—the way he was holding his arms, the set of his shoulders, the curve of his waist, and even the shift of his legs. Everything about him seemed perfectly normal. He doesn’t look hurt.
