“Then we build a roof,” I counter. “We’ll build a roof anyway because of rain. Also, we’ll build a floor.”
He gives me an amused look. “You seem to enjoy building.”
“Only when I build with you,” I say before my brain can stop my mouth. Heat rises to my cheeks. “I mean, only on Xren. You know. Because everything here is dangerous. Not to enjoy. Except building.”
He leans one shoulder against a pole, crossing his arms over his broad chest, and I hate how good he looks doing it. “Mm,” he rumbles. “Very dangerous.”
The way he says it makes my stomach drop a little, but in a pleasant way. I suddenly find myself over-focusing on a vine knot that’s perfectly fine.
“All right,” I say a little too briskly, carefully swinging one leg into the playpen so I can step into it. “We need strength for the poles. If she tries to pull on the vines, the whole thing will—” I move my hands in a wobbling motion.
“I will help,” Kenz’ox offers, easily stepping over the wall.
“No, no, it’s small. You’ll?—”
He tries anyway, and immediately elbows one pole, sending the whole structure shuddering. I yelp and brace one side.
“Careful! It’s not strong now because it’s not a hut. It’s a playpen.”
“You said to reinforce it. I am testing its strength.”
“I didn’t say hit it with your shoulders! You’re not fighting a… a bobont!” I’m unreasonably happy to be able to make a lame joke in an alien language.
He has this smirky smile that partly annoys me and partly stirs up heat in my stomach. “My shoulders are not so big.”
I snort. “They are very big, and even the bobont would say those shoulders are too big for the jungle.”
He straightens a pole with one enormous hand. “You do not like them?”
“I didn’t say that,” I mutter far too quickly.
“Maybe you really like them and you’re jealous because your own shoulders are so small.”
I throw a handful of vine scraps at his chest. They bounce off harmlessly. “Mine are perfect.”
His gaze lowers to my chest. “They really are.”
“You’re in my way,” I retort, to distract myself from the tingles shooting down my front. “When Aker’iz sleeps, I am the building chief. Hold this.”
I hand him a bundle of vines, and he takes them, his fingers stroking along mine and lingering for just a tiny moment.
Oh my. His presence is powerful enough. But his touch says even more than his gaze.
I pull myself together and start weaving the next row. “Okay, pass me the thinner ones?—”
He hands me one that is clearly too thick and short, little more than a stick.
“No, the thin ones.”
He hands me a thicker one, again letting his fingers stroke along mine in a way so suggestive that my breath catches in my throat.
“No—”
Another one, still thicker.
I look up and glare at him in mock outrage. “I wake the chief if you’re not nice.”
He looks completely innocent. “Me?”
