Hand to his heart, insulted grimace on his face, he declared, “You wound me.”
He got an honest laugh out of her before Dianne’s hands fisted in her skirts and she began to nervously chew her lip.
When the Omega stood, struck with indecision, Chris urged, “Take the tray. I’m not going to move from this spot. I’ll even scoot back if it will make you feel better, though we might have to shout to hear one another if I go much farther.”
Slowly inching forward, Dianne made a grab for the tray, pulling it far enough on her side of the room that even with his great reach, Chris would never have been able to touch her. Mirroring his posture, she set a hip to the floor, legs tucked neatly under her skirt.