Free Fearless For Love (Lovelly #3) by Clara Stone

me. She looks down, then slowly moves her gaze up to meet mine. “I know it’s none of my business, but I swear I saw you at Blue Tango a few nights back . . . with Stamos and his men.”
    I blink slowly, trying to decide what to say. Is she upset? Disappointed? Why is she so freaking difficult to read?
    “Yeah, I was there,” I finally admit.
    “Batman, right?”
    “How do you figure?”
    She smiles, bashful. “Your eyes. They were even more pronounced against that black mask and . . .” She points to my cheek. “And that bruise . . .” She flushes a pretty shade of pink. “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure.”
    I grin, relieved somehow. I’m not sure what I was expecting her to say, but I guess I’d been bracing for the worst.  “You know, I knew it was you the moment you bent over with the drinks.”
    Her eyes widen and the pink on her cheeks brightens. “I don’t dress up like that usually.”
    I’m confused, what does that have to do with recognizing her? “I didn’t think you did. I mean, your usual MO seems to be sweats. Why would you think . . . ?” Just like that, all the pieces fit together and I realize why she looks like a ripe tomato. I laugh.
    She swats at me. “It’s not funny, Harry.”
    I run my hand under my nose. “It is though. But only because I’m surprised you’d think I recognized you from your outfit. I’m good, but I’m not that good. I’m Batman, remember, not Superman.” I wink at her.
    She’s throwing me a death glare.
    “What did you expect me to think? You were staring at my boobs the way you stared at my ass the other day.”
    Guilty. She does have a great ass, and an equally striking rack. But I’m not ready to let her win this. “How could I not, when they were practically spilling out of that feather outfit? No guy in their right mind could ignore that.”
    She doesn’t respond, but looks away again, pressing her lips together, angry. And I feel bad for making her feel like an object. That’s not what I intended.
    I get to my feet and offer my hand to her. She looks at it, then at me. To my surprise, she slides her hand into mine and I pull her up, a little too hard. She stumbles forward, nearly taking us both right back down. But I find my footing and manage to keep us upright. Her hands land on my shoulders, mine wrap around her waist, and suddenly our bodies are flush against each other. Chest against chest. Thighs against thighs. Even her toes are on top of mine, pressing mine into the uneven ground. It hurts, but I don’t care at the moment, because I’m too busy staring into her big round, surprised eyes.
    Her chest heaves—forward and back. Up and down—the same rhythm as mine. But apart from that slight movement, there’s . . . nothing.
    She doesn’t move. Neither do I.
    We are frozen, at a standstill.
    Unable to look or push away.
    I notice how dark her pupils have turned, the tiniest hint of blue in the green surrounding them. Her eyelashes flutter ever so slightly, thick and long. They make her look a bit exotic. I don’t think I’ve ever admired eyeballs before.
    But damn, I am now.
    “I’m sorry. About my comments before. But for what it’s worth, you have a beautiful body and even more gorgeous eyes.”
    She looks down shyly. “You are ridiculous—”
    “—ly amazing. I know.” I cut her off, turning her potential insult into a compliment. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she’s still holding on to me, and I’m perfectly content to let her.
    “Not the word I was going for,” she says, meeting my gaze with a coy smirk.
    I feel one corner of my lips quirk up. “I agree. That’s a little bland. I bet you can think of something better.”
    “Full of yourself.”
    “Confident,” I offer.
    “Master of self-proclamation.”
    “Optimist.”
    “Arrogant,” she fires back, smiling in full now.
    “Modest.”
    She chuckles, shaking her head. “In what world?”
    Her hands now rest over my chest, like it’s the most