[ Part of him wants to roll his eyes at her clearly conflicted feelings towards him — him, frustrating? Has she met the rest of their companions? — but that wouldn't be very seductive at all, so he squashes the urge for now, committed to playing the fantasy of the tempting rake. He draws closer, leaning in as if for a kiss but stopping just shy of their lips touching; if he were the type to breathe, she would be able to feel it ghost over her skin. ]
no subject
A little frustration can be a good thing.