“We’re not discussing this.”
“Don’t go. Stay here. I won’t even say anything about that girl again. Let me handle Ivanovitch for you.”
“I am fine. We are fine. I’m sorry you don’t have much faith in me, but I’m done with this conversation.”
Sejal didn’t even register going to their room. It was like she blinked and she was up there, looking down at the sweatshirt she’d borrowed from Krish when he’d driven her home from the bar. She crushed it in her hands.
The door opened behind her. “Are you ready?”
She dropped the folded sweatshirt beside the duffel on the bed. “Yes.”
“Good. If we push it, we can make it to Vegas by morning.”
He was still sticking to their deal of stopping in Vegas. Even though he had no idea why. Because she was starting to get the sickening feeling that he was a good person.
And you are not.Sejal turned to face Krish. He looked sterner than usual, but his frown deepened when he saw her face. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she murmured, but he didn’t seem to believe her, because he walked closer. She cleared her throat. “How were the baby goats?”
“There was only one baby goat.”
“I had no idea you were such a baby animal fan.”
“Who isn’t?” He came another step closer. Now only a few inches separated them. “My mom upset you, didn’t she?”
She is trouble.
“I’m fine. She’s wrong, you know.”
“What is she wrong about?”
“About how you’re not cut out for this life.” Sejal gestured around them. “We’ve been in a few hairy situations, and you’ve gotten us through them.”
His eyes warmed, his detached mask slipping. “So have you. We make a good team.”
Perhaps it was the softening of his face, or the wordteam, that made Sejal go up on her toes and press her lips against his.
For a second, hands hanging limply at his sides, he didn’t respond. She was about to jerk away when he grasped her hips.
Not her waist, not her shoulders, but her hips. Who knew a hip grasp was the sexiest place a man could hold a woman?
He pulled her forward, and the kiss deepened. Her eyes were closed tight, all of her senses focused on the crush of his body against hers and his lips and tongue moving over her. Electricity ran through every nerve ending of her body, leaving her burnt and spent.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and grew lightheaded, whether because of him or because she was starved for oxygen, she wasn’t sure. When he finally drew away from her, she sagged against him.
Reality returned to her consciousness in small increments: the sound of the heater kicking on, the pressure of his arms still around her, his chest rising and falling, his breath brushing her cheek. Her lashes fluttered open.
His lips were wet and slightly parted. She waited for him to say this was a mistake, or an accident, but instead he lowered his head and kissed her again. This time when they pulled apart, he tugged on her lower lip with his teeth. “We should go,” he said quietly, and she nodded.
He released her and picked up the duffel. She expected him to walk away from her, but instead he held out his hand.
Damn it. He kissed like a god, was a master at cunnilingus, and he was chivalrous enough to take the luggage and hold out his hand for her.
How did he know she liked having her hand held?
Sejal grabbed his sweatshirt from the bed and put it on, then accepted his hand. She didn’t know what else he’d said to his mother and stepfather, and she was tense about seeing them again before they left, but all was quiet downstairs.
I trust her. She’s not her family.
