I pause.
I exhale through my nose and make a decision. Carefully, I shift, rolling her onto her back. She goes easily, pliant, mouth parting slightly as she exhales. No resistance. No protest.
I study her face in the low morning light. The bruise is fading. Her lashes rest dark against her cheeks. She looks prettier like this. Softer.
Dangerous.
“You sure you’re not pretending, Beda?” I murmur.
Nothing.
I lean closer. “Because if you are… I’m going to touch you.”
My hand slides down her hip, slow enough that she could stop me if she wanted to. She doesn’t. The shorts she’s wearing are loose, perfect to slip to the side.
She’d definitely wake for that.
I brush my knuckles along the inside of her thigh.
She sighs. Still doesn’t open her eyes. I swallow and slide down between her legs.
I press my lips to the inside of her thigh, feel her pulse flutter under my mouth. She shifts slightly, a soft sound escaping her throat.
Still asleep.
My hands slide up, gripping her hips, thumbs pressing into the hollow spaces there. I want to wake her. Want to see those brown eyes snap open, wide and startled, when she realizes where I am.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
I drag my nose along the fabric of her shorts, breathing her in. That fucking marshmallow scent mixed with her.
Fuck.
It makes my cock throb, painful and demanding. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts.
And freeze.
Cold metal kisses my temple.
Herhand.
Mygun.
She’s got it pressed to my head.
Our eyes meet in the dim light.
She’s awake now.Very awake.Her chest rises and falls rapidly, pupils blown wide, but her hand is steady.
I chuckle, “Where’d you get my gun, Beda?”
“Under your pillow, idiot.”
“You going to pull the trigger or just hold me hostage between your legs?”
She narrows her eyes. Then pulls the gun back.
