It was one thing to have seen Avery sprawled over the couch like a Venetian Goddess, her legs stretching for miles, but an entirely different thing to sit on the opposite end, inches from her, and not be pulled by her aura—or her damn bare legs.

Had she known he had a thing for legs?

Colton cleared his throat and took the flute of champagne, something Avery had already served him without asking, "Do you drink?" Which he did not. Not anymore anyway. Not since mum—But Carter did. Carter who was probably somewhere in the world, or Eastern Europe, drinking like a fish per usual.

He took a sip, knowing if his twin saw him then, he'd say, 'About damn time'. So he wasn't drinking on an empty stomach, he also grabbed a chocolate dipped strawberries from the bowl and asked, "What's the occasion?"

Avery brought a piece of fruit to her lips with a cheeky shrug. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was flirting with him, which had him wondering: had she followed him out of curiosity or something else?

Her lips wrapped around the red juicy fruit suggestively before she took a bite. "Nothing. I adore something sweet"—the half bitten fruit twitched in her hand—"and savoury after a long flight," she added, raising her flute to him. "Don't you?"

"Can't say I do. Usually I'm asleep by now." Whether she was trying to be sensual or not, a shimmer of want hit him and he shifted on the couch, hoping she didn't read too much into his wandering eyes or his traitor of a throat that kept drying out.

"Carter Thebes sleeps before midnight? Who would have thought." She shook her head, the slender cords of her neck dancing with the move. Cords he wanted to trace with a thumb... or tongue. "Consider it a midnight snack then."

"You drink champagne and strawberries regularly as a midnight snack?" He grabbed another strawberry and popped it in his mouth, trying not to watch her eat like she was a magnificent live-art installation. "So—" He cleared his throat again. "How was your day? Do anything interesting?" Interesting hadn't been his first word choice, but he could hardly come out and ask, "Stalk anyone lately... say, today?"

"Oh, nothing much." She pointed the remote at the TV and pressed play casually but not before he registered the quick glance she threw him, as if gauging his reaction. "Just... walked around the neighbourhood for a bit, then back here for a dinner and a bath. Hope you don't mind—" Her weight shifted as she rose to grab the flutes of bubbling drinks, and handed him one before  dropping on the couch a little closer than she had been. "I know the bathtub's in your bathroom. But I thought... you wouldn't mind."

That was an image he did not need. Colton stared at the TV and gulped half his drink. "No. Why would I mind?"

Was she doing it on purpose? Crossing boundaries? Telling him she hat soaked in hot water in the tub in his room, naked, on purpose? Was she reducing the distance between their bodies on purpose too? Or was it just a figment of his imagination that the margin that separated them was halved each time she reached for a fruit?

And had she really not tailed him today?

"I swear I thought I saw you today," he said carefully—flippantly, as if he was just stating a fact and not probing. Then he grabbed another  berry and caught the shucking sound of her lips on her fruit in the silence between.

Fuck. He tipped his drink,  reminding himself that he was playing Carter, and not because he needed a distraction from Avery and her legs and her mouth around that fruit.

"Did you?" She pressed play on the movie she'd selected and as the intro began, she perched the fruit bowl in the dip of her folded legs. He'd have to reach towards her pelvis if he wanted to eat more berries. And suddenly he did. He wanted all the damn berries in the world.

Colton swallowed at the sight, reaching a hand as casually between her legs to reach the berries. It's what Carter would do, he told himself. Carter the Casanova. As he did, his arm brushed her smooth skin and he found her smiling at him, as if the whole thing had been her plan. "You love my berries?"

And for once in his life, he fucking loved it. How cunning that was. How entirely seductive.

He wanted to say, "I fucking love your berries," as his eyes drifted down to her lips. He cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't waver, but instead drop an octave, and said instead, "Maybe I saw someone who looked like you?"

He sank back to his side of the sofa and splayed one arm across the top, and with the other, slowly bought the red, juicy fruit to his lip, paused a moment, hoping to torture her just the same, then bit it with a wink and turned to the TV. "So what's this movie about?"

"You haven't seen this?" The shock in her voice was evident as she ranted about the dramatic yet entirely unrealistic plot of the romcom they were about to experience. "You'll love it!" She declared in the end but he doubted it. Severely. Romance wasn't a thing he liked watching. It was a thing he liked living and right then, all he wanted to do was grab Avery by her delicious thighs and snuggle her close, or snatch the next fruit out of her mouth, and into his.

But what he hadn't expected was to sit through the entire movie with the woman, sipping champagne while she not only topped him up but also called for another bottle and further torture him with another bowl of strawberries.

As one hour stretched into two, as yawns razed his body, yawns he hid behind the backs of his hand, as the alcohol flowed through him, warming his core and loosening his hold on the facade he'd been holding, Colton should have been worried. He should have been worried that the woman across from him smiled too easily at him; lied just as easily, and was slowly disarming him with champagne. That the gap between their bodes had dissolved long ago. That she sat knee-to-knee with him, studying him when she thought he wasn't paying attention; or that somehow, they'd settled into a night that felt like it could be easy routine between them. That they could do this, often.

He should have probed further, got to the bottom of why she'd followed him, but he figured the more he made her feel comfortable around him, the more she was likely to confide in him one day. All he had to do was wear her down. And if it was through champagne and berries and watching other people find their happily ever afters, then so be it.

Perhaps one day, she'll get drunk enough—not a malicious thought per se, but he thought it nonetheless. Perhaps, if he got her drunk before they were scheduled to head back home, he could coax the truth out of her. After all, wasn't that what this whole trip had been about? Getting to the truths? Truth about Carter. And now truth about Avery and why, suddenly, he got a feeling that he should be more careful around her. That perhaps he told a few harmless truths of his own—ones she may not remember the next day. Then maybe, just maybe, he could—

Kiss her.

The unwanted thought made him jump to his feet, slightly wobbly, and to cover for it, he yawned and stretched out his limbs. "I'm falling asleep on the couch...I better hit the hay. I'm buggered..."

"Oh," Avery followed him to her feet and kissed him on the cheek like it was the most natural thing for her to do. "Night night, Carter." She blinked blearily at him, her cheeks rosy from alcohol, rosy cheeked, and happily dropped back on the sofa to finish off what was left of her champagne before he could react to it.

The last thing Colton remembered before passing was, was that how Avery always said goodnight to others? Or was it just for him? The former made him insanely key for a hot second, the later made him want to go back out there and kiss her, consequence and truth be damned. Stalker or not, the woman was worming her way into his mind, and quite possibly his heart.