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Yet his gaze was narrowed on her property and she knew getting it back was his top priority.
He removed one hand from her ass to confiscate the knife, forcing her to clamp her legs tighter around him to keep from falling while she threw her arm behind her and out of his reach.
For a moment, they grappled in their ridiculous position; him grabbing for the knife, her squirming away. All the while, he never let her go. Their combined motion forced her to slip up and down his body in a way that caused friction in places where friction shouldn’t be. Warmth cascaded over her. She shuddered. He paused for a moment and gazed down at her.
“You should put me down.” That wasn’t her voice that had breezed through her lips. That was the voice of a sex kitten.
He seemed to shake himself and then continued reaching for her knife, though his grip on her ass cheek seemed to repeatedly tighten and loosen. The sensation was maddening. He grunted, or maybe it was a groan, when he nearly seized her property and she shimmied higher on his body to raise the knife out of reach, but he was too strong and pulled her arm down by the elbow. With his other hand preoccupied, he had to release her elbow in order to go after her prize and her fist shot straight up again.
“Woman, for the love of the gods!”
“Knock it off.”
“Give it to me!”
“No!”
Frustrated, he stomped toward a patch of grass and unceremoniously deposited her there. In the next instant, his body came over hers to pin her down, his gaze still lasered in on the folded knife in her hand.
“What are you…get off me!”
“Give me the knife and I will.”
She stretched her arm away from him again, as far as she could. As he reached out for her hand once more, she kneed him in the side of the gut. He grunted, losing his breath. His weight let up slightly and she took the advantage. Pushing against him as hard as she could, she managed to shove him to his back, but he hooked her waist and she rolled on top of him before they both settled, breathing hard.
He folded one arm behind his head. Thinking he was once more going after her knife, she quickly shoved it into her bra.
“You think I will no’ venture there?” His tone had lost all of its edge.
“You do and I’ll scream.”
“You’ve already done plenty of that. Who do you expect will hear you out here?”
She didn’t respond, just glared at him. He had the strangest grin on his face, the picture of ease with his arm tucked back, the other on her hip as she…straddled him.
“We’re either here too early or too late,” said Orik from behind her. June twisted around to see him, Edel, and Belinda walking up the path.
“Tristan Okora!” Edel scolded. “Get off her this instant.”
“Technically, she’s on me, Mother.”
“Oh my God!” June tried to scramble to her feet, but part of her dress was caught under his big body. She tugged and tugged, her cheeks flaming red. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Looks like Tristan is actually enjoying himself for a change.” Orik offered his hand to Tristan, helping him up and freeing June’s skirt in the process. She shot to her feet.
Edel rushed forward to brush off her dress and June was suddenly horrified to think she might have damaged it. As Edel shifted to pick debris out of her hair, she frantically examined the garment. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I expect such behavior from children, no’ from a King,” Edel scolded her son, but June felt it all the same. Her cheeks blazed hotter.
Tristan scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck, looking more amused than admonished. Orik appeared as if he was about to burst out laughing while Belinda brandished a deep unapproving frown.
“I’m sorry,” June repeated. “It was my fault. A bunch of critters scared me—”
“Knoths,” Tristan inserted. Orik hid a chuckle.
“—and I jumped on Tristan and we fell and my dress got tangled.” At least that was part of the truth.
“Oh, dearling.” Edel’s tone was sweet and sympathetic. “You don’t need to be afraid of Knoths. They are entirely harmless.”
