Page 2 of Teach Me Your Ways

“Excellent work,” I said.

Yelena appeared at my shoulder, close enough that I caught a whiff of her shampoo. Something fruity that I wanted to breathe in forever. Was she really a coworker? Technically, we worked at different universities. This was just a joint project. Still, it would complicate things if I gave in to her constant advances.

“Burial chamber?” she asked, studying the readout. Her breast pressed against my arm and I wondered if she was doing it on purpose. Almost certainly.

“Maybe. Or storage. Could be ceremonial.” I handed the unit back to Madison and took a big step away from my touchy-feely colleague. “Mark the coordinates and set up a perimeter. Nobody digs until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Madison nodded and took off to get the team moving. Yelena continued to hover nearby and I ignored her and headed back to where I was clearing vines. She resumed her nearby spot as well and we got back to work.

A few minutes later, I heard a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” I spun around to see what had been found.

Yelena had dropped her machete and was clutching her left hand. “I cut myself.”

A cut in the jungle was serious business. “Shit. Let me see.”

“No, no, there’s no time. I need your shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“To make a bandage,” she said urgently. “Hurry. Please. No time for questions.”

Without thinking, I started unbuttoning my shirt. I’d only gotten halfway when I saw her eyes slide to my chest. She licked her lips.

It wasn’t subtle. Not even remotely. It was the kind of lip-lick that belonged in a bar after midnight, not halfway up a jungle ruin with two grad students nearby shouting about howler monkeys.

I blinked at her, catching on to her little game. “You’re not bleeding, are you?”

“No,” she said, entirely unapologetic. “But I really wanted to see what was under that shirt. You get off on potential burial chambers and old stones. I get off on…” She waved a hand at my body.

I snorted. “You realize I almost stripped in front of the interns.”

“Fine.” She reached for her own buttons. “Then I’ll use my shirt.”

I grabbed her wrist before she could flash the ancient gods. “Whoa there, Doc. We’re not alone up here. Not in front of the children.”

She smiled wickedly. “Let them see. We can teach them a thing or two.”

Yelena didn’t do subtle, and she didn’t do shy. Every look she gave me was a proposition. Every word dripped with suggestion. Which should’ve been flattering. Hell, it was flattering. She was a smoke show. Intelligent, confident, absurdly competent, and if she wasn’t who she was, I would absolutely fuck her until neither of us could walk.

But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—take her up on the offer.

Yelena stepped closer, her breasts pressed against my chest, her lips inches from mine, her hands trailing heat across my abdomen. Fuck me. It would be so easy. And I knew it would be good. My cock stirred to life with a growl like a jungle cat.

We could walk ten feet away and be swallowed by the jungle, plunged into privacy. The monkeys and chirping bugs would drown out any sounds we made.

No. Don’t do it.

Hookups were fine. They had their place. But I’d hit that point where I wanted something more. A tent, at the very least. A private conversation. Someone who laughed at my bad jokes and actually cared what I had to say about glyph translation over breakfast. Also, Yelena and I were co-directing this dig. Mixing business and pleasure was a game with too many traps and not enough escape hatches.

Still, my conviction was wavering. My cock was no longer stirring. The damn thing was trying to take control of my other limbs.

“Grady,” she whispered, lips nearly brushing mine. “You’re thinking too much.”

And I was about to agree when my pants started buzzing.

I groaned and pulled out the satellite phone from my cargo pocket. The screen lit up with a name that made my blood pressure spike.