forced every molecule of air out of her lungs. “Hold
still.”
She stopped struggling and gave a single sharp nod,
but her body was rigid, her muscles humming with tension.
The situation was too tempting to resist. So he
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didn’t. He let himself enjoy the sensation of having
her in his arms—however mutinous she might be—
lowered his face and inhaled the scent of her hair,
vanilla with a top note of smoke.
She made a strangled sound, and he figured he’d
pushed as far as he could, for the moment.
Easing his hold, he let her get her balance on her
own two feet. For a second, he debated whether to
draw his hand from her lips slow or fast. There was always the risk she’d bite him.
But she surprised him as he uncovered her mouth,
doing nothing more violent than whispering, “Follow
me.”
No questions. No polite chit-chat. Just an order she
expected him to obey.
His amusement knew no bounds.
“Followyou?”
“I know this terrain better than you. Wanna trip over
a log and break an ankle?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. Then she
froze, sucked in a sharp breath and jerked from his
loosened grasp, going down in a defensive squat.
He knew what she saw behind him: two shadows,
close at his back. Though how she managed to differentiate them from the crowded, dark shapes of the trees
