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"Ah… if you don’t want to talk. I understand. It must be tough for you to adjust back into civilian life, after all." She scans my features. "You took off your bandage."
I stare at her.
She giggles, the sound nervous. "Sorry, I’m stating the obvious. That scar looks good on you."
I resist the urge to raise my hand and trace the outline of the slash across my left cheek. Too bad the wounds inside are not going to heal as quickly.
She continues to study me. "Your jawline does look more pronounced since I last saw you, and you have dark circles under your eyes. Have you been sleeping well?"
My frown deepens.
She opens and shuts her mouth. "Oh, my god. That was such a stupid thing to say."
Ya think?
"Of course, you’re not sleeping. In fact, if you've gotten any shut-eye since you returned, my carriage will turn into a pumpkin at midnight."
I scowl.What the hell is she talking about? Have I wandered into an alternate reality filled with blonde, curvy women who shoot their mouths off while looking like plus-size-Barbies?
"That was Cinderella, though. My personal favorite is Beast and the Beauty. I mean, Beauty and the Beast. Not that you’re the Beast, or I’m the Beauty. No, I certainly didn’t mean to imply that you're the Beast, even though you don’t smile, and you certainly are large and tall and broad and have the most massive shoulders I’ve seen on anyone—and this, after you lost weight since I saw you when you came to bid Abby goodbye before you left to wherever you did. And I didn’t ask Abby about your mission, no siree." She shakes her head. "Nope, not me. And I certainly didn’t probe her about you. I mean, I’m not interested in you that way. Not at all."
Maybe she didn't probe Abby about me, but I'd like to probe her.I arch an eyebrow.
She chews on her thumbnail, and when I stare at it, she reddens further. She lowers her arm, then shoves it behind her back for good measure. "Bad habit, sorry. Don’t know why I’m apologizing to you for it, anyway." She straightens her spine. "Also, I shouldn’t have said that, should I? I shouldn’t be talking at all, but you don’t speak, though you did ask me when I arrived if I wanted to work for you, and—" She shuffles her feet. "I’m not sure I want to. You’re a grump and I’m a people-person—"
No shit.
"We’re too different. We can’t possibly get along. I told your sister as much, but she thought it would be good for you to, uh"—she glances away then back at me—"uh, to have a friendly face on your team. But I really think it’s a bad idea." She straightens. "No, I’mconvincedit’s a bad idea. So, I guess the answer is no, I don’t think I want to work for you."
She stares at me, expectation writ large on her features. Did she honestly think I was going to stop her stream of consciousness before she tied herself into a knot? It was too entertaining to watch her stumble into a hole then pull the hole in after her. I continue to watch her with a steady gaze. My breathing is even. And if my pulse rate becomes slightly elevated, and my engorged dick indicates my body is attracted to her, fact is, she’s not my type.
Even before the months spent in that hellhole, I preferred my women quiet and ready to spread their legs when asked. And while I’m not in any hurry to entangle myself in a relationship, my time away has ensured I’m not fit to be in any kind of liaison with someone of the opposite sex.
Also, she’s not tough enough to last one day in my presence. Even if I gave her the job—which I’m not going to— she’d run screaming out of the office within the hour. And she's Abby’s friend, which would make it all very messy. And her non-stop chatter would only drive me insane. Nope, this job is not for her. I continue to hold her gaze, and when she realizes I’m not going to say anything, she hunches her shoulders.
"Okay, I get it. I knew this was a bad idea. I don’t know why I allowed Abby to talk me into it. Anyway—" She flashes me that bright wide smile of hers. "It was, uhh, a pleasure." She shakes her hair back from her face and waggles her fingers at me. "Toodles, Abby’s bro." She takes a step back. The next second, her body arches, a small cry escapes her mouth, and she begins to pitch toward the floor.
I jump up and throw myself across the desk.
6
Penny
One second, my heel catches in the carpet and I begin to pitch back. The next, something—no, someone—Knight, grabs the collar of my jacket and pauses my descent. He tugs and I stumble forward. My heart slams into my ribcage. My pulse rate spikes. I come to rest at eye-level with him, bent over the desk. He’s stretched over it, more than halfway across the span of the considerably wide space. Only, the man is so tall that stretched out over it, he manages to make its expanse seem slimmer than what it is.
This close, his green eyes are a sheet of glass. A lighter green than I’d realized. They’re almost a pale blue. Icelandic, icy. There’s no emotion there. A chill grips me. Goosebumps pop on my skin. If I’d hoped to see through that frozen barrier he seems to have slapped down between him and the world, I was sadly mistaken. There’s nothing there. No emotions. Definitely no empathy. Not even a streak of meanness. There’s simply a blank canvas. It’s as if he’s wiped out his feelings or—he’s hidden them deep down to protect himself against what happened.
I draw in a sharp breath, and the scent of sea-breeze laced with pepper—his—fills my senses. Oh, my god. The contrast to that vital, sexy, erotic scent of his body and the bleakness I glimpsed in his gaze is a sea-change. My head spins. My pussy clenches. My nipples tighten into points of desire. He must sense my response, for the spider web of lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes deepen. His nostrils flare. Then he begins to straighten slowly, without letting go of me.
I find myself pulled across the desk. My chest flattens against the surface, and he pulls me forward until I’m flat on the surface on my front, my legs dangling over the side of the desk opposite him. He sinks down into his chair and releases his hold on the collar of my jacket. Only, he curves his fingers around the nape of my neck. He applies enough pressure, and I lower my cheek into the table. For a few seconds, he keeps his fingers there, and it’s strangely calming.
The adrenaline empties from my blood stream, and he doesn’t let go. I might as well be a feral cat and he my new owner, with the way he communicates with my body without saying a word. Then, he releases his hold, rises to his feet and rounds the desk. I hear his footsteps as he prowls around to stand behind me. There’s silence. The kind that pushes down on my back and pins me to the table.
I should look over my shoulder and see what he’s doing. I should push up and off this desk and ask him what he means by pushing me down into it. I should… definitely not be sprawled out on his desk unable to move, with the anticipation building in the pit of my stomach. With my thighs clenched, my breath coming in pants. My nerve-endings stretched, my pulse beginning to race again.
I—I gasp, for he’s palmed my butt through my skirt. The heaviness of his hand, the heat which sinks through the fabric and into my skin seems to brand the print of his fingers into my ass. I inhale a shaky breath. Heat shoots up my spine. My belly trembles. My breasts hurt. Then, the weight of his hand is gone, to be replaced by his grip around my hips as he slowly drags me back across the desk, stepping between my legs as he pulls, until my feet touch the floor.He treats me like a rag doll he can throw against the wall or on the floor on my back and push aside my legs and—
The heat of his body is a furnace behind me. I want to wiggle my bottom back against his crotch, but he slides his hands up under my arms to pull me upright. The solidness of his physique is a reassuring presence. His hands slide down again, his touch possessive on the curve of my hip, the part that almost forms a handle to grab onto when he… pulls me back. The scent of him is potent. I feel… owned, possessed, branded… And all without his having said a word. His hold tightens on me—then he releases me and steps back. A shiver runs up my spine.
