“Okay,” he said. “This got out of hand fast. I think we need to start over.”
A raging bull of panic bucked her confidence, and she was left with nothing to defend herself. Nothing except the anger that built until she screamed in his face.
“Or not,” Lance said. “Can you breathe?” He lifted himself enough to relieve some of the pressure. “That was a little surprising.”
She gritted her teeth. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I actually know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah. That’s why you’re down there.”
Never had she imagined that he would simply fall on top of her. Undeniably effective. They’d never covered that one in any self-defense training at Rafferty.
Miya snarled. “You’re either lying or an idiot if you’re telling me we can talk this out.”
“We both need things,” he said. “I need to get bandaged. You need to get out from under me. Seems reasonable to use our words.”
“What? We agree not to tell?” Miya laughed. “We take smoke breaks and flirt?”
“That's what we've been doing. I don’t know who you are or what you want. You’re not my enemy until you prove otherwise.”
“Yeah?” She scowled. “Well, you’re my enemy.” Crying out, she fought to kick her legs and break her wrists free but only managed to wiggle against him. How humiliating.
“I’m here for Krowe, that’s all. For his protection. I'm not going to hurt you. We don't need to fight.”
“Don't treat me like a fool. You didn't get yourself shot protecting Krowe, or he'd send you somewhere safe to treat your wound.”
“He promised my people a payment I needed to check on.”
The story didn’t add up, not with the captain’s instruction for her. But Lance's charade was so convincing. Being stuck beneath him panicked her too much to notice until now, but when she didn't struggle, the hands on her wrist turned gentle. His body trembled from the way he held himself over her to keep from crushing her. Miya looked down at his broad chest pressing into her and then slowly along that narrow space between their faces.
How foolish to fight so ineffectively. One look was all it may take. Miya stared into his eyes, no longer fighting the crush of his body against hers. Instead, she took away the distraction of her struggle, so he saw her pinned beneath him with nothing to protect herself. To make him feel every place their bodies melted together. Which was every fucking inch of her because he consumed her.
Calm. Calm. Calm. No fighting.
Miya breathed out slowly, struggling with her anger once more, when she only needed to arch. To glance at where she melted against his chest. Then she'd win.
A blush warmed his cheeks. Perfect.
“Sorry,” he stammered. “Shit. I'm sorry. I’ll let you go.” He turned his face away. “Just don’t attack me again.”
“Fine.”
When he lifted, their bloodied clothes stuck together until her shirt plopped onto her with a sickening sound. Instead of rising immediately, like her body screamed for her to do, she lay listless on the bed for several seconds, letting him see the position he left her in.
Look at that. His stare could have burned a hole in the ground. He uttered another apology.
Never mind that Miya tried to bash his wound with a gun. She saw the best way to win against him right now. His body may be big, but his heart is tender.
Using the dresser for support, Lance lifted his shirt and pried off his bandage, wincing. It looked like someone carved out a hunk of skin the width of a finger on his side. It didn’t appear deep, though. He was right before. He’d be fine.
Miya worked her way toward the door, but he didn't attempt to stop her or talk to her. “You aren’t going to ask why I’m here?”
“You're not going to tell me.”
“True. Don’t come after me. My boss will cut off all your fingers if you do.”
“I thought you were going to shoot me.” He dug antiseptic from the bag. “Which will it be?”
“Both if you interrupt me. This is important. Go into town and ask for a lady named Janey. She’s discreet. You’ll get an infection and die a miserable death if you keep fumbling around with it yourself. Not that I should care. You just look so pathetic doing it yourself.”
