"A goldfish? Seriously, Michael?" Olivia’s voice, normally bubbly, was laced with something akin to… intrigue? He noticed the way her gaze lingered on his chest as he’d spoken. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, but there was a subtle arch to her back that told him she wasn't as opposed as she pretended to be. The fish seemed trivial now.
He felt heat climb his neck. The room suddenly seemed far too warm. The thought of her, wet and naked, made him light headed. He shifted his weight, trying to appear casual. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping to regain some semblance of control.
"They're relaxing," he managed, his voice a little husky. He watched the way her eyes followed the movement of his hand. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to forget the goldfish and everything else.
He took a step closer, the scent of her perfume filling his lungs. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. The silence stretched, a palpable thing between them. The tension in the air was thick, like a physical weight. All he wanted was for her to give the go-ahead, to acknowledge the simmering desire he knew they both felt.