trying not to stand in profile and hide a semi-erection. The woman distracted him. In the best of all possible ways, but still enough that he was losing.
Christian didn’t like to lose. Not even to a beautiful woman who smelled like…a beach? Coconut, vanilla, maybe jasmine? Giving in to the urge, he pushed the thick mass of her hair over the tied halter strap on her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Mallory asked.
Had she arched into his touch? Was he imagining the slight movement? “Trying to figure out why you smell so intoxicating.”
“It’s probably my alluring foreignness. That All-American mix of democracy, feminism, and stubbornness.”
Christian nuzzled her neck. Yes, he sniffed. But his lips also grazed the smooth line of her throat.
And his cock surged to attention.
He needed this game to end. Fast. Before he did something stupid.
Stepping away—all the way almost to the board—Christian said, “I bet you can’t throw over your shoulder, with your left hand, without looking, and hit anything.”
With a wordless smirk, Mallory grabbed the dart and sashayed to the line. Oh, he knew that hip twitch was intentional…and aimed right at him. She cocked her arm.
Then, on the opposite side of the curtain, a giant crash sounded. Probably a whole tray of mugs, and someone’s paycheck for the week totally obliterated.
Mallory jerked at the noise. At the same moment that she let go of the dart.
It didn’t just go wide of the mark. It went sideways—right into Christian’s forearm.
Blood immediately spilled down from it, dripping onto the floor.
Fuck.
Mallory spun around, the cocky smile falling off her face as she took in the blood. The, ah, impalement.
Christian didn’t wait for anyone else to notice. Past experience told him that even the off-duty guards would hustle him off his feet and straight to the hospital. He covered his arm and hurried to the back. Past the two tiny bathrooms and down the half flight of uneven steps to the office. It had a private bathroom and the door locked. The manager had shown it to him—and his guards—when they started hanging out more here, in case he ever needed to escape a crowd.
He yanked at the roll of paper towels, but that just sent it careening off the cracked porcelain sink to unspool across the entire room. The door opening again stopped its roll. But it wasn’t an overzealous guard.
It was Mallory. Her face was dead-white, and her lips were just as pale where she had them compressed.
“Sit down,” she ordered, pointing at the lumpy couch.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Taking care of you. I caused the problem, so it’s my job to fix it. Now sit down.”
“It’s nothing. Just rip off a wad of towels, would you?” Christian grabbed a rubber band off the desk. Good enough. He rolled it over his wrist to below the wound.
As she crowded in next to him, he pulled out the dart. And hissed in a breath at the sting. Blood pumped out, but Mallory didn’t do anything. Annoyed, he grabbed for the makeshift bandage himself, pressing it to the wound. Then he rolled the rubber band over the thick wad to hold it in place.
“Sorry,” she whispered in a barely there voice. “I’m not good around blood. At all.”
“Then why’d you come in—” Christian broke off when he noticed her white-knuckle grip on the sink. She’d faced her fear to help him. Talk about brave. “I’m fine. Don’t even need a stitch.” Swiftly he added another layer of towels and pressed hard, to be safe.
“I’m so sorry.”
Before she sunk any further into misery, he needed to distract her. Which was fair, since she’d been distracting him since the day she moved into Alcarsa Palace. “I’m not sorry at all. Not since it got us alone.”
That got her gaze to shift from his arm up to his eyes. “You don’t…we can’t…you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine. I’ll prove it.” More for her sake, to reassure her that he’d live from the nothing wound, Christian brushed a kiss over her lips.
Then it didn’t matter why. It only mattered that there’d be more.
Because her arms banded around him with a ferocity that shocked him. There was so much need vibrating through her tight body. Need that was obvious from the way her leg locked around his, her hips rocked back and forth, and she amped up the intensity on the kiss from one to where’s a condom.
A need that almost matched his own.
Eagerly, he nipped at her ripe, full lips. His hand tunneled through her hair