“Oh Jesus, are you taking me to some cannibal cult where you eat me?”
“I told you, stop giving men tips on how to kill you.”
“This is some cloak-and-dagger shit is all.” She ran her hands up and down her arms.
“Come here,” he said, and she stopped fidgeting. A sliver of moonlight had peeked between the trees and it fell on his hair, creating a silvery lock.
“Why?”
He dropped his duffel on the ground. He rummaged around, then brought out a rolled-up pair of men’s socks. “Come here for a second.”
Confused, she walked up to him. She jumped when he took her arms into his hands.
She looked up at his harsh face in the moonlight. “Um, what are you doing?”
He brought her hands up and she nearly jerked away when he blew on them. But the warm current of air heated her throughout her frozen body, making something sharp and foreign clang awake in her belly.
He raised his head, and their gazes met. She thought he was going to say something, but instead he shook out the socks. In contrast to the almost delicate way he had blown on her hands, he put the socks on them roughly, rolling them up her arms. “Here,” he muttered. “You look cold.”
She flexed her fingers in the sock mittens. They were tingling. From the cold, obviously. “Uh, thanks.” She glanced down at her body. She was wearing Krish from head to toe now. “I seem to have monopolized your wardrobe.”
“I don’t mind. Looks better on you.”
From any other man, she might have considered that remark a form of flirting, but not Krish. So far, his flirtatiousness had only reared its head when he was playing a role, and there was no oneout here but them, and no reason to pretend to be into her at the moment. Real Krish was way too serious to flirt with her, of all people.
She thought he’d release her, but he didn’t. His hands ran up her arms, and she swayed closer to him. She cleared her throat. “Um.”
“Sejal...” His breath touched her lips. It was warmer than when he had blown on her hands. She wanted to feel it on every body part. She tilted her head back, surprised at how close they were. One step. That was all that separated them. He could have his lips on hers, and they could see if that spark she’d imagined in the very beginning actually existed—or if he was a better actor than she’d thought.
What are you doing?
Something stupid probably.
“Do me a favor,” he said quietly.
“Sure.” She wasn’t one to grant favors without knowing what they were, but she’d say anything if it meant he’d lower his head a little more.
And she was rewarded when he did exactly that. His mouth came closer to hers, so close she could smell cinnamon on his breath.
“Uh-huh,” she said, though he hadn’t said anything more.
His lips settled on hers. It was a barely there kiss, a brush, not nearly enough. She moved to scoot closer, but he stiffened. His head came up, eyes sharp, and swiveled one way, then the other. He released her and reached inside his jacket, pulling out a gun.
Oh. Back to reality. Heat brushed her cheeks as she realized how foolish she’d been to forget their circumstances and who they were. Had he realized she was about to wrap herself around him?
Mortification made her tone sharp. “Have you had that on your body the whole time?”
“Since we got off the bus, yes. Hitchhiking can be dangerous.” He grabbed her arm and stepped in front of her, shoving her behind him.
“I know that. What—?” She stiffened when she heard the faint rumble of a car in the distance. “Who is that?”
“The caretaker probably.”
“Probablyis not comforting.” Sejal tried to scoot around Krish, but he shoved her back again. “Do you have an extra gun?”
“No. Besides, you said you don’t like guns.”
“I also don’t like cars approaching me in the middle of the night. I need a weapon.”
