him to see her smile. “He told us that men will expect a woman to struggle, but not for her to become the aggressor. So the element of surprise, along with a stout stick and calm mind, should get us out of any trouble we might find ourselves in.”
“You must have thought my warning the other day was rather patronizing, since you’re obviously more than capable of handling your teammates.” He chuckled, only to immediately regret it when a sharp pain spiked through his chest. “Not that any of them will be in any hurry to bother you after today—including Gretchen.”
Her smile vanished as she dropped her gaze, but not quickly enough for him to miss the flush in her cheeks. “I have to lift yer shirt,” she said rather huskily as she stared at his chest. “And see if any ribs are broken.”
Then again, maybe she wasn’t so much embarrassed as aware—as in her realizing they were alone, in the dark, and she was about to run her wonderfully feminine hands all over him. Gunnar bit back a groan that had absolutely nothing to do with his injuries. His five-month fantasy was about to come to life.
Not wanting her anywhere near the lower half of his body, he pulled his shirt out of his pants and gathered the material high enough on his chest to expose his ribs, only to flinch when her delicate fingers gently brushed over his skin—making every drop of blood in his body rush straight to his groin anyway.
“Sorry,” she murmured with a throaty chuckle as she shut off the light. She shoved it in a pocket, then positioned herself in front of him and looked him level in the eyes. Well, in the eye that wasn’t swollen nearly shut. “I’m going to have to poke and prod to the point it may hurt a bit,” she said as she splayed her hands on both sides of his torso just above his belt. “So, I’d appreciate ye not taking a swing at me.”
Oh yeah, definitely aware, if that hint of a brogue was any indication.
“Trust me, I excel at learning from other people’s mistakes,” he drawled—the last part coming out in a gasp when her fingers slowly walked up his sides. “Your hands are really hot. Their temperature,” he added lamely, even as he wondered if he could reach down and tug on his pants without her realizing why he needed to adjust them.
Except she didn’t appear to be listening, much less worried about what his hands might be up to, as he was pretty sure her eyes were closed while she focused on him, on moving her hands over him. His ribs—on feeling his ribs. Wait, was that a smile?
So was the woman checking out his injuries or bringing her own fantasies to life?
Her fingers nearly scorched him now, making each rib they touched feel . . . funny. Sort of shivery, as if they were moving inside him. In fact, he felt hot and shivery all over. The way it felt before two bodies came together in bed—sharp and bristling with energy. But different, somehow. Soothing.
He’d swear the higher those fingers climbed, the easier it was for him to breathe and the less he hurt. Hell, even his cheekbone quit throbbing.
Guess lust was an effective painkiller.
If he leaned forward just a few inches, he could kiss her. She wouldn’t even see it coming because her eyes were closed. And with her being so tall and him semi-sitting on the table, their mouths were at the same level. And she couldn’t call him out on it, because he was hot and shivery and not really thinking straight after taking a sucker punch to the head.
They might have met only a few days ago, but he’d been imagining this moment since the first time Jane mentioned her very beautiful, very best friend in an email—thoughtfully including a photograph—nearly five freaking months ago. Except he hadn’t been beaten up in his fantasies, so he couldn’t exactly relive them by sweeping Katy off her feet and carrying her off . . . someplace private.
Even if he felt her lips for only a second, it would be enough.
Hell, he didn’t care if she slapped his face; he just wanted to taste her.
Gunnar froze in mid-lean when her eyes suddenly opened, appearing unusually bright considering it was totally dark now. “Nothing’s broken.”
Yes. Yes, it was. He was broken. And he’d spent all this time and energy and traveled thousands