Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers, #4)(22)

“Jack you’re prowling around the room like a caged tiger. Sit down and let me look at your wounds.”

He glanced at her, and his heart did a peculiar somersault, his pulse raced. He pressed one hand to his chest, shocked at the way he couldn’t control his response to her. He sat down because it was easier than trying to walk when it was becoming painful. He realized at once that that was a terrible mistake. She bent over him, her body so close to his he felt her through his skin. Her scent enveloped him until he couldn’t do anything but breathe her in. He was acutely aware of every detail of her body—the curve of her cheek, the length of her lashes, the steady beat of her heart. Every stroke of her fingers, as she applied topical antibiotics, felt like a caress designed to heighten his need of her.

His erection grew thicker and harder, blood pounding, centering in his groin. Her breasts brushed against his arm as she leaned across him to get to a wound on his chest that was particularly inflamed. If his body had hurt before, he couldn’t remember it, with the throbbing ache between his legs. He couldn’t think with the roaring in his head and the taste and feel of her imprinted in him.

Jack gritted his teeth and tried to use his brain. He was a loner, a solitary man who needed no one and kept it that way. Every woman had been someone he could take or leave, and he liked it that way. This woman wasn’t the leaving kind and he knew better than to want her. He had discipline. Control. He heard a noise escape, a growl of need he couldn’t prevent. The sound was as primitive as the way she was making his body feel. Worse, she had somehow gotten under his skin.

His fingers settled around her wrist, and he tugged at her until Briony turned her head and looked at him. Their eyes met and an electrical charge of spine-tingling awareness shot down his spine.

“Did I hurt you?” Her voice caressed his skin, her breath warm and inviting, fingertips stroking back his wet hair. “I’m trying to be gentle, but you have so many deep cuts.”

“Sit on the end of the bed.” He sounded rough even to his own ears, but it didn’t matter. She had to get a distance away from him or he was going to roll her body under his and do all the things playing out in his mind that would shock the hell out of her.

Briony smiled at him. “Do you order everyone around?”

Her smile lit up her face. It did something special to her eyes, turning the deep brown to a melting chocolate. Another growl escaped, and he tried to look away, but she seemed to mesmerize him. “Yes,” he bit out between clenched teeth. “Just do what I say when I say and we’ll be fine, Briony.”

She laughed. The sound sent a shudder of pleasure rippling through his body. He was suddenly very afraid for both of them—for his honor and her innocence. “Have you ever heard of self-preservation? Because I don’t think you have much in that department.”

Briony seated herself on the edge of the bed. “I have plenty, thank you. It’s just that you really do expect everyone to do what you say whenever you command them. You can’t control other people, if they won’t allow it.”

His gaze drifted over her face possessively. “You aren’t one of those other people. I’m trying to do the right thing here and keep my hands off of you.”

Briony’s heart jumped. Her pulse pounded. His scent had been driving her crazy, like some aphrodisiac she couldn’t resist. She’d tried not to let him know, but she’d needed to touch him, needed to be close to him. She tried to tell herself it was because for the first time in her life she could be in the close confines of a room with another human being and not feel the pain of his thoughts and emotions. She moistened her suddenly dry lips and was instantly aware of his burning gaze following the sweep of her tongue along her bottom lip, turning her gesture into something sexual.

“At least you have the sense to be nervous.”

The sound of a fist against the door made her jump. Jack swept out his arm to block her with his body, gun coming up so smoothly she knew it was an automatic gesture.

“Briony!” Jebediah bellowed. “Open up.”

Jack didn’t know whether to be relieved or to curse. “The man has never been quiet,” he said. “Remember to stand to the side of the door.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Briony agreed as she unlocked the door, doing it the way Jack insisted.

Jebediah handed jeans and a shirt to Jack and a syringe to Briony. “Seth also has antibiotics in his medical kit.” He reached into the hall and dragged a tray in. “I brought food as well, figured you hadn’t eaten in a while.”

Jack nodded to him and took the tray.

“You look like shit, Jack,” Jebediah observed. “The rebels weren’t fooling around with you. If they cut you up any more, you’d be in pieces.”

“They skinned Ken.” There was a hard note in Jack’s voice, one of deadly purpose. “They cut up him up from his feet to his head. They’d just gotten started on me. I was lucky.”

Jebediah swore under his breath, and glanced at Briony and caught her blinking back tears. “You’re too soft, Bri,” he snapped. “You always have been. In the real world, shit happens and you have to be tough.”

Jack raised his head, gray eyes glittering with more than menace, with promise of retaliation. “Leave her the hell alone. She’s fine just the way she is.”