I catch my weight on my elbows before I crush her, but I’m still pressing her into the pine needles. My hips are locked against hers. My chest is heaving against hers.
For a second, the violence stops.
The silence of the woods rushes back in.
Below me, she lies still.
Her hair is spread out like a fan on the dark earth. Her lips are parted, breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her cheeks are flushed red from the cold and the fight.
She’s looking up at me. Her pupils are blown wide.
Adrenaline mimics arousal. I know that. It’s biology. Fight or flight.
But this doesn’t feel like biology.
The heat of her body radiates through our clothes. The softness of her thighs under mine. The frantic beat of her heart against my chest.
Or maybe that’s my heart.
The static is back, but it’s not a spark anymore. It’s a live wire.
I should move. I should roll off, stand up, and critique her form. Tell her she let me take her ground.
I don’t move.
Her gaze drops to my mouth. Then back up to my eyes.
“You hesitated,” she whispers.
“What?”
“You had me pinned. But you hesitated.”
“I didn’t want to break your ribs.”
“Liar.”
She shifts her hips. Just a fraction.
It sends a shockwave through me that has nothing to do with combat. My tactical brain is screaming GET UP, but my body remembers what it feels like to want something.
“Cassie,” I warn. My voice is a wreck.
“You’re heavy.”
“Survival isn’t comfortable.”
“Is this survival?” She lifts a hand. Brushes dirt from my shoulder. Her fingers linger on the strap of my vest. “Or is this something else?”
I stare at her. The ghost of Sofia is standing at the edge of the clearing, watching. Guilt rises, black and suffocating.
I’m a weapon. I’m a shield. I am not a man. Not here.
“Focus,” I snap.
I roll off her. Stand. Offer a hand.
She ignores it. Pushes herself up. Brushes the pine needles from her jeans. She doesn’t look at me. She looks angry. Or maybe hurt.
