Chapter 61: Miranda

His hand slinked into the pocket of his suit jacket with graceful ease. In what seemed like slow motion, he seductively dragged out the blood-red satin and lace. I was mesmerized by his movements. Eason exuded sexuality and masculinity. If I weren't careful, I'd get swept up in the façade and forget what I was doing. And right now, I needed my underwear back. I grabbed them right before he used them as a slingshot.

I shook my head in disbelief at his childish antics. "Seriously? Do men ever grow up?"

He shrugged. "Not if we're lucky."

"You have an uncanny ability to make people believe you're all kinds of put together. When in reality, you're no more mature than a five-year-old in a sandbox sticking his tongue out at a grody girl."

"Girls are still grody. I'm convinced they all have cooties."