After the hundredth time, Trev’s eyes were glued to my chest with that heated look in his eyes, I knew that my hopes for discretion went out the window. Unfortunately, this final time we were on our way over to the barbeque I let him talk me into going.
“For God’s sake, Trev,” I spat out angrily as I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized even though he didn’t sound very sorry.
“Yeah, right. How am I supposed to ‘relax and have a good time’ if I’m worried every person there will be staring at my chest?” I groaned.
“It’s not really that visible,” he tried to reassure me.
“Then why do you keep staring?”
He gave me a mischievous smile and a wink but never actually answered the question.