Chapter 1053: Flirting and Teasing

She grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "Yes. Use this time to

charm me

into accepting that you’re really the one for my daughter. So that when she forgives you—if she forgives you—you won’t have to waste more of your precious teenage energy later trying to win me over too."

Eros smiled, slow and confident... did she even know what she was asking for herself?

He settled in the armchair, crossing one leg over the other, letting the charged moment stretch just a beat longer than polite society would allow.

"That depends,"

he said, voice low and warm, "on how you want me to charm you. And what, exactly, you want to know. You already have the basics.

Seventeen.

Large family, small core—mother, aunt, two stepsisters. Adopted. And, as I said, apart from school, I run a tech startup that’s sold a few pieces of software and—"

"Yes. You said." She waved the wine glass in a small, playful dismissal, the motion sending a subtle ripple through her lush figure, her breasts rising and falling softly beneath the silk as if her body was already responding to the easy banter.

"That explains how you can afford such

a fancy horse."

He laughed softly. "Actually,

Nyxire

is more of an

inheritance from my real mom."

The words slipped out before he could dress them up. Just raw and he did not realize he’d just said, landing with unexpected weight and truthfulness.

"There’s no amount of money that can buy that,"

he added, quieter.

Something gentle flickered across her face—a flash of understanding, almost tender. Then the mischief returned to her eyes, brighter than before, a faint flush creeping up her neck.

"Is that you bragging about your

mysterious rich background

right now?" she asked, one eyebrow arched in exaggerated suspicion, lips curving into a flirty smirk.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you’re

intrigued

enough to ask for more and getting curious about me." He held her gaze, letting the silence hum between them. "That would give me an opportunity to keep you in my life more. There’s quite a bit you can learn about me if we leave the surface level. It’s surprising how much of a person you can uncover in these short minutes—when nobody knows you’re asking and it stays just between the two of us."

The wine glass paused halfway to her lips, her breathing deepening just a touch as the air between them grew thicker.

She laughed—low, delighted, and just a touch

wicked

like she’d had just realized exactly what game was being played in her living room... and had decided, against every sensible rule, to keep playing.

As she laughed, her voluptuous chest rose and fell with genuine amusement, the silk whispering against her skin doing something to him.

"You little demon,"

she said, shaking her head with a grin, her free hand drifting up to toy with the thin gold pendant nestled warmly in the valley between her breasts. "Are you actually trying to

charm

your

soon-to-be

mother-in-law

right now? That’s bold... even for a boy with a name like Eros Velmior Desiderion."

’You have no idea... woman. Oh, right I do not know her name.’

"If that’s what it looks like," he replied smoothly, eyes never leaving hers, "then absolutely yes. I’d do anything to get on her good side. In fact, I’m starting to think getting on your good side might be the real challenge tonight."

She bit her lower lip to stifle another laugh, but her eyes danced with amusement and something warmer, a subtle shiver running through her shoulders as the flirtation landed.

"Oh, you are dangerous. Alright. Alright, Eros Velmior Desiderion," she said, deliberately drawing out his full name with playful exaggeration, leaning back against the couch so the silk blouse hugged her curves even more invitingly,

accentuating

the soft, feminine swell of her body with every breath.

"So. Tell me. What exactly can I get out of you in these short minutes that I apparently wouldn’t get any other way?"

He looked at her, letting his gaze hold hers—slow, steady, the kind of look that said the room belonged to him and he was in no rush to leave.

"That depends on what kind of woman I’m talking to," he said quietly, voice dropping just enough to feel intimate.

"What kind of woman do I look like?" she asked, tilting her head so the loose honey-blonde strand brushed her flushed cheek, her posture shifting in a way that made her blouse cling even more teasingly to her figure.

She was hoping for a compliment she hasn’t got in a long time... he could tell that much and he had one right there waiting.

"A rare breed."

She laughed again, softer this time, the sound losing some of its performance and gaining real heat, her body responding with a delicate flush that spread across her chest.

"You’re going to have to do better than

’rare,’

demon. Every man over thirty who’s ever tried to flirt with me has led with ’rare.’ It’s the default compliment of a generation that ran out of better lines."

"I’m not over thirty."

"I noticed," she said, letting her eyes drift over him with open, flirty appreciation.

"Very clearly."

"And I don’t mean rare the way they meant it."

"Then explain it,"

she challenged, her voice turning playful and inviting as she took another slow sip of wine, lips lingering on the rim of the glass, her generous breasts pressing lightly against the silk with the subtle movement.

He let the silence sit long enough that she looked up from her wine glass, her soft gray eyes meeting his fully, the two of them sharing a quiet, electric moment with no filler.

"The kind of rare,"

he said, voice low and sincere, "that comes when a woman stops waiting for the world to confirm what she already knows about herself. Most people never reach it. A lot of beautiful women never do—they spend their whole lives checking mirrors for permission. You stopped. I don’t know when. But it shows. In the way you sat down just now. In the way you closed your door behind me without looking back.

"In the way you pour your own wine instead of waiting to see if I’d offer it playing some

gentleman.

You don’t need anyone’s approval. That quiet confidence is the sexiest thing a woman can wear... and you’re wearing it perfectly right now, without even trying."

The silence after he finished held its breath.

Her wine glass had drifted down to rest against her knee without her noticing. She was looking at him—not flirty, not composed, just... looking, because something has slipped past her defenses and landed a little too deep.

"Eros,"

she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of wonder.

"Yes?"

"Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"I didn’t learn. I just watch."

"Watch what?"

"Women who are worth watching."

She inhaled slowly, her breasts rising beneath the cream silk blouse in a smooth, unconscious swell, then let the breath out even slower, the fabric clinging just a little tighter as her body reacted to the quiet intensity.

With careful movements, she set the wine glass on the side table, as if she no longer quite trusted her own hands—or her own voice—not to give her away.

Then she smiled. Small. Private. The smile of a woman who had been pleasantly surprised and was enjoying it far more than she wanted to admit.

"My daughter," she said softly, a playful lilt creeping back into her tone, "is in a lot of trouble."

"Is she?"

"Yes." Her gray eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something warmer, more dangerous. "Why?"

"Because," she said, letting the word linger between them like a shared secret, "I’m beginning to understand why she stopped bragging to me about you. She didn’t stop because there was nothing to say. She stopped because she knew she wouldn’t know how to explain it without me figuring out exactly what I’m figuring out right now."

He smiled, slow and knowing.

Didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

She picked up her wine glass again, took a slow, deliberate sip, and let her gaze drift over him once more. The silk blouse shifted softly with the movement, hugging the generous curves of her breasts as they rose and fell with a subtle, warmer rhythm.

The loose honey-blonde strand still brushed her flushed cheek, and her bare feet remained tucked beneath her on the couch, toes curling just slightly against the cushion in quiet response to the growing tension.

The two of them sat in her living room in the warm lamplight, the small silver-framed photograph of her and Ashley smiling on the mantel between them, the quiet tick of a clock somewhere in the background, and the unmistakable awareness humming between them that they had quietly slid from "interview" into something far more charged—without either of them bothering to announce the change.

Outside, Nyxire waited patiently at the fence.

Inside, a very attractive single mother was trying (and failing) to remember what she’d been reading before that knock had come... and wondering how long she could keep pretending she wasn’t enjoying this way too much.