The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,8
her legs, spreading her stance until he slid his foot between hers.
Heat bloomed deep in her belly. Breathless, she couldn’t ignore the way his muscles pressed against her ass. Her pussy pleaded for the same attention. A long-forgotten, fevered thrill urged Amanda’s back to arch.
His palms squeezed her shoulders. A shock wave of searing arousal swelled. She wanted to mewl but closed her eyes to indulge in the illicit touch. She imagined how his rough hands and herculean strength would fondle her body demanding her orgasms. A moan caught in her throat as he kneaded her neck and drifted down her spine, repeating the same noninvasive pat-down she’d given him, but with electrifying results.
He remained painfully unhurried. Her arousal spiraled, and Amanda vibrated on the edge of reckless mistake. Yet she was safe and certain that if she walked away, she’d never share an encounter as intimate and real as this.
He pulled away. “Now, we’re both clear.”
His voice was staggeringly unaffected. A torrent of shame twisted her stomach. Arousal had triumphed over prudence. She’d barely picked a side in their fight, preferring a fantasy. Worse, she’d defiled the reasons why she had protective limitations in the first place. Abasement gripped her thoughts and throat. She couldn’t breathe. A black hole of reproach swallowed her ability to scream.
He touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
She exploded. Her elbow jerked back. The sharp angle connected with his gut, and as though she were a spectator watching, she knew what would happen next but couldn’t stop. She twisted and knotted her hands into his shirt. Her knee slammed into his groin.
Violent pain exploded across his face.
“Oh, God.” This wasn’t his fault, but she struggled to gain control.
The man doubled over, coughing and cursing. He stumbled to the steps and collapsed.
“I’m so sorry.” Tears ran down her cheeks. Damn it, she should’ve known better. “So sorry.”
He wheezed in agony. “What the hell?”
“I didn't mean to.” Though that didn’t matter. Amanda pressed her hand to her throat. “I forgot how to breathe.”
The man glanced up and glared, then returned to a self-soothing ritual that sounded like a dying bear.
Her legs trembled, and she reached toward him, hand shaking like she might pet his head but was too scared. “Are you okay?”
Groaning, he waved her away.
She didn’t know what to do. Her guilt multiplied. “Do you need ice?”
Eternity passed. Then he laughed. “Are you serious?”
Another round of hot, embarrassed tears ran down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Unmoved, he grunted, then uncurled himself, propping his hands on his knees like he might get sick. If he’d had a white flag to wave, he might’ve thrown it at her. “Game over. You win.”
Amanda shrank back. “What?”
He managed a chuckle that quickly ballooned into stomach-clenching laughter.
Amanda’s jaw fell. She hadn’t meant to hurt the guy, but she wasn’t about to watch her freak-out become his source of hilarity. “I should leave.”
“Great idea.” He winced and kept laughing. “The first good one either of us has had.”
“It was an accident!” She wanted to disappear but couldn’t shake her growing exasperation. “You’re not dying.”
He looked remorseful for flirting with a she-devil and tossed out a hand, half agreeing, half waving her away. “I’d rather you had shot me.”
She flushed then swiped the unloaded weapon and clip. “Don’t touch my gun again.”
“Lesson learned, lady.”
Guilt roared back. “Really, are you okay?”
“I’m not sure if I’ll ever have kids …”
“Oh, God.” She holstered her weapon and edged closer. “Honestly, I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”
His head tilted up, and his eyes narrowed. “None of it, huh? Too bad.”
“What?” She jumped back. “I thought you were dying!”
He winked, and she wanted to strangle him.
“Either way.” The man pushed off the step, failing to hide a wince. “I’ll survive.”
He eyed the descending staircase, probably nauseous at the number of remaining floors until the ground level. Then he ran a hand over his face and returned his focus to her. The scrutiny made her feel as vulnerable as before but without the fantastic, fluttery light-headedness. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His grin hitched. “Trying to decide if I’m going to puke or follow up on that invitation to dinner.”
“What?” Her eyebrow twitched.
“I’m not much for games.” He extended his hand like she hadn’t just brought him to his knees. “But I dig puzzles.”
Without thinking, she lifted her hand to his and floated when his grip swallowed hers. The handshake lingered and made her mind feel fuzzy. “I’m not a big