What the hell does smelling like coconuts have to do with anything? I blink at Caine, genuinely confused by the bizarre shift in conversation.
Caine's jaw tightens as his nostrils flare again. He breathes in deeply, looking almost offended by my smell.
"It's lotion, okay?" Something about the intensity of his stare makes me want to fill the silence, but I have nothing particularly nice to say. Instead, I mumble, "Not that it's any of your business what I put on my body."
His eyes darken at my words, and I immediately regret my phrasing. It's stupid to antagonize someone when you don't want them to kill you, but it's hard not to get a little uppity when they act so damn strange.
I shift in my seat, tapping my fingers against the table as I gather my courage. "Look, I don't think you have any legal right to hold me as a prisoner."
