“The Rahl set a trap,” she said.
Most people would think her tone was emotionless, but Axton detected the faintest trace of anger vibrating in there. “Yes, they did. Can you tell where we are?”
“Some sort of…box under the floor. A trapdoor closed after us. The room is?—”
She paused, and he guessed she was scanning their location.
“Four meters by four meters and made of metal.”
He pushed against the net. “We need to get this net off.”
“Hang on.” She wriggled against him.
Her thigh slid between his and desire bloomed to life, blood rushing to his cock. He coughed to hide a groan.
She kept moving, struggling against the metal rope, her body rubbing against his. He felt her firm breasts against his chest, the puff of her breath against his neck, and that long, firm thigh brushing against his?—
She froze.
“Yes, I have an erection. You wriggling against me like that…well, I’m not sure you need to do much more than breathe and I get hard.”
She was so still and quiet he wouldn’t have known she was there if he couldn’t feel every inch of her.
“You’re…attracted to me?”
Why was there so much disbelief in her voice? “Yes, Xenia. Outrageously.” And with her pressed against him, he couldn’t fight it anymore.
“Why?”
Her quiet confusion made his chest ache. “Because you’re beautiful and strong. And so damn smart and competent it’s scary.” He paused. “Because I know you feel.”
She sucked in a breath. “No.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I was there in that cell, Xenia.”
“No—”
“You pulled me out of the darkness, gave me the comfort I needed to get back on my feet.” He badly wanted to touch her, stroke her, but he didn’t dare. “I want to be the one to explore those emotions with you, and show you what else you could feel.”
“We can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t feel. I’m a CenSec.”
“Are you saying Xander’s not a good CenSec?”
“Of course not!”
“I actually think the fact he embraces his emotions now makes him a better CenSec.”
She was quiet. “We need to get out of here. That’s the only thing we should focus on right now.” Her voice had cooled.
She was running away. His jaw clenched. He’d let her. For now. He was an excellent negotiator and he always got what he wanted…by knowing when to wait and when to pounce.
“You have something to cut the net?” he asked.
She nodded, her silky hair sliding across his face. “I have to move, though. It’s in my boot.”
He gritted his teeth. “Do it.”
She wriggled against him. As her face slid lower down his chest, he prayed for control. When her face reached his stomach, his muscles contracted. Sweet Creator, this was torture. She paused, then he heard her take a deep breath and move lower.
