Thrill Ride (Black Knights Inc. #4)(27)

He pulled away from her gentle touch, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him. “The wound is nothin’,” he told her brusquely. Was that his voice that sounded like a rusty hinge? “The blood’s already drying.”

“Yes,” she dragged the s out on the end of the word. “But here in the jungle, the smallest cut can lead to massive infection. We need to get that thing cleaned, dried, and bandaged.”

She had a point. But if she put her hands on him again…Good Lord. He reckoned he’d be toast.

“All right, fine. But I’ll do it myself.”

She made a tsk-ing sound, and her hand landed on his forearm again only to start on a slow, agonizing journey up his bare arm. The erection he’d managed to beat back when the jaguar arrived on the scene swelled with new life.

Merde. This woman’s gonna be the death of me!

He grabbed her hand and tossed it away, trying to ignore her surprised hiss. “I’m serious.” His harsh tone declared the topic closed for discussion. “I’ll do it myself.”

The resounding silence following that statement let him know more clearly than words ever could that he’d gone and hurt her feelings.

Well, bon. If she considered him a prick of legendary proportions, she’d be only too happy to see the backside of him once he returned her pretty ass to the Knights. And it was better to suffer some hurt feelings now than all-out heartbreak later on.

“Suit yourself,” she finally huffed, and he figured it was mission accomplished on the whole getting-her-to-think-he-was-a-prick front. A rustling sound alerted him that she’d picked up his pack, but he was still caught off guard when it slammed into the center of the chest. The breath shot out of him in a harsh oof and, despite himself, he felt a smile curve his lips.

Mon dieu, he liked her. Considered her damn near perfect, in fact. Because along with being tough and beautiful and lusty, she was also spunky as hell. The combination was Kryptonite to his Superman. Which was just one more reason why he had to make sure he didn’t encourage any more bouts of tongue wrestling—Lord have mercy, can that woman ever kiss! He was already too far gone where she was concerned.

“Thanks,” he wheezed, digging into his pack, fishing for the antibiotic wipes and self-adhesive bandages he’d packed.

“Oh, you’re very welcome.” The sneer on her face was apparent in her tone, and it occurred to him, as he broke open a pack of wipes, that since she was already pissed, it was probably a good time to go all in.

“And about that kiss,” he said, hissing when he wiped the antibiotic cloth across his cut. It burned like the fires of hell.

Appropriate, considering that’s probably where he was headed someday.

“Yeah? What about it?”

For a moment, he was too busy blinking back tears of pain to speak. Glad, for once, for the complete darkness inside the log lest she realize what a goddamned sissy he really was. Zut! Just give me some bubble bath and a tampon. I think I’m officially part of the estrogen party.

Then he managed, “It can’t happen again.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” she snapped. “The way you’re acting right now, not only do I have no plans to kiss you again, but you’ll be lucky if I don’t suffocate you in your sleep.”

He smiled.

Funny. He’d forgotten to add that to his list of reasons why he thought she was perfect. Tough and beautiful, lusty and spunky…and funny.

Goddamnit!

“I’m serious.” He had to work hard to keep his voice stern.

“So am I,” she shot back without missing a beat.

“Vanessa,” he warned.

“Richard,” she mimicked his tone, but the sound of his given name on her lips had his stomach turning a fast, dizzying somersault.

No one called him Richard. Not anymore. Not after his parents. Not after Lacy…

Words abandoned him, so he busied himself with the bandage’s adhesive strips. Carefully peeling them away, he found the outer edges of the cut on his neck and centered the dressing over the top of it. Pressing the medicated pad in place, he wondered what she was doing. She was awfully quiet over there. Too quiet.

What’s she thinking?

Of course, when she opened her mouth, he decided he’d have preferred it if she kept her thoughts to herself. “Just out of curiosity, why can’t we do that again?”

He knew what she was after, but he still asked, “Do what?”

“Kiss.”

And just the word, spoken from those heart-shaped lips of hers, felt like an intimacy, like a single finger running up the length of his dick, like a wet tongue sliding—

Jesus! He was a lost cause.

“Because we’re coworkers,” he said and wished he could call the excuse back the moment it left his mouth. It was so lame it only opened up an avenue of argument. And, oui, just as he expected…

“That’s ridiculous,” she huffed. “Just look at Boss and Becky. And, last I checked, we aren’t coworkers anymore. You haven’t drawn a BKI paycheck in months.”

She had him there. So that left…the truth. Even though he knew it was going to hurt.

“Well, then, we can’t do it again because you’ve got orange blossoms in your eyes, chere. And since I’m not the kind of man who would take advantage of a woman, it’s best we just keep our hands, and everything else, to ourselves.”