The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,7
his shoulder. “I don’t know if I’m astonished or slightly turned on right now.”
She positioned her foot between his and angled her position to protect her smaller frame.
“You know what you’re doing.” He gave her space to search him, slowly lifting his arms. He shivered at the possibility of her nimble fingers skimming across his stomach, hips, and thighs. And, if she came anywhere near his groin— he’d feel a lot more than a shiver.
“Of course, I know what I’m doing.” Deftly, she tugged at his shirt. The fabric pulled from his post-workout damp skin. Cool air kissed his flesh. Goosebumps formed. His breath caught as she methodically searched him with a frightening level of professionalism. If the situation had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been businesslike. “Am I clear?”
She ignored him, and her fingers skirted his waistband. If this little game didn’t end soon, she’d learn exactly what he was packing.
Hagan glanced over his shoulder again. “Now are we friends?”
Mistrustful reservation had darkened her eyes. “Stand still.”
“What do kids these days consider second base?”
Her hands ran up his ribs and in front of his arms until she returned to the front of his shorts.
“Because second base would make us more than friends,” he explained, restraint waning. “Yeah, this is definitely, almost second base.”
Without a word, she stepped back. “Guess you’re not as dangerous as you look.”
Hagan pinched his eyes shut and pulled himself together. He turned, and her cold expression might’ve castrated a lesser man. But that lesser man wouldn’t have noticed the flush that returned to her cheeks. “Didn’t know I looked that way to start.”
She rolled her eyes. “If the games are over—”
“They’re just starting.” Hagan gave his most charming, distraction-worthy smile, then disarmed the woman and spun her to the wall before taking his next breath.
CHAPTER FIVE
Amanda could’ve kicked herself a half-dozen times in the last fifteen minutes. But this time, she deserved it. Panic clawed through the thick fog of arousal that had drowned out the urge to run. But even as she freaked, Amanda couldn’t escape this man’s spell. She was thirsty for his company, and wasn’t that just cause for irritation? “Asshole.”
His mouth neared her ear. “I don’t think that’s what you wanted to say.”
A full-body shiver prickled at the nape of her neck then rolled to the tips of her toes. His voice worked over her like the talented fingers of a masseuse. But it was the warmth of his whisper that made the fine hair along her back stand up like sharpened spears. “You’re right.”
“You know what I’m curious about?” he asked, sliding his hands down her arms.
She couldn’t ignore his touch, and her goosebumps chased his strong hands. “Not really.”
“I’m curious”—he skimmed his fingers up the underside of her forearms and bicep—“why you’re still here.”
She looked over her shoulder. “I’m pinned against the wall.”
He took a step back.
She didn’t move. “You have my gun.”
He ejected the chambered round and released the clip. They clattered to the floor. Her nerves vibrated as if he’d stripped away her layers as easily as he’d rejected her reasons. This didn’t make any sense. She had trained herself to be a machine. Never wavering, always following her strict rules. Amanda didn’t take up with sexy strangers in remote hallways of construction sites any more than she would go on a date at a restaurant with someone she already vetted and knew well.
He waited for her to elaborate an explanation. The strumming beat of her pulse reached dangerous territory, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. Amanda stared at the rough wall as if an answer might appear. Of course, it wouldn’t. The last time she’d let a physical attraction sweep her off her feet, it’d almost killed her. Only the scars remained.
He leaned close, his chiseled face nearing her neck. “Is this game wrapping up or just getting started?”
Amanda didn’t have an answer. Their tension thickened. This was insane, but she didn’t care. In a careful, measured pace, Amanda lifted her arms above her head. She swore the man’s breath caught. Arousal thundered in her chest, and impatient for his hands, she pressed her palms against the wall.
“You good?” He towered over her.
His question rumbled down her spine. “I’m terrified that I’m not terrified.”
“Tell me if that changes.”
She should say that she’d lost her mind; instead, she relished the new freedom. Unfettered liberty washed over her, clean and fresh and full of promise. “I’ll let you know.”
“Good.” His powerful thigh nestled against the back of