Society in general was all about less bloodshed and more humane weapons, or so advertising proclaimed. At least, for those who cared about the damage caused or about leaving others less defended.
"Rachel, before you leave the office, contact Senator Tyler and ask him if he'll move the meeting set for tomorrow in D.C. out here. The Weather Service is calling for heavy snow tomorrow and I'd prefer not to get grounded by a blizzard."
He moved from his office into hers, a frown edging at his brows to indicate his irritation as he faced her. Jonas didn't mind the snow unless it ended up delaying something he wanted or needed to do.
"Anything else?" She made a note on the electronic reminder she used.
She heard him mutter something--she knew she had. But when she turned back to him, he was merely glaring back at her with the same expression he'd had moments ago.
"Did you say something else?" she questioned him in confusion.
"I said you could work naked, but I doubt you're into that." The glare became more intense.
Rachel just barely kept her lips from twitching. "I could, but don't you think Lawe and Rule might be a little uncomfortable when you start all that growling stuff?"
His expression stilled, no doubt in shock. It wasn't the first time he had muttered something; it was simply the first time she had confronted him over it.
As she watched, the arousal, the pure hunger he always seemed to keep a lid on, flared in his gaze for just a second before he managed to hide it once again.
What she saw stole her breath. The need that reflected for that one second on his face was like nothing she had ever seen or known in her life. It was all-consuming, overwhelming.
Unlike Jonas, she didn't have the self-control to hide her own responses nearly so quickly, and she knew it. Heat surged through her body, raced through her bloodstream, and in less than a second had her clit throbbing and her vagina moist and clenching in need.
She watched as he slowly inhaled, drawing in the scent of her arousal, and thought just how unfair it was that he had that ability.
"You're stepping into very dangerous territory," he warned her as he crossed his arms over his chest, the white silk shirt he wore stretching over his broad shoulders. "If you have no desire to be a mate, then perhaps you should give a second thought to teasing me, Rachel."
Perhaps she should.
"I haven't refused to be your mate. I simply stated that I'm not your mate," she pointed out to him. "Just because some hormone in your system wants to turn me into your sex slave doesn't mean I would be anything more than just that."
Perhaps she was wrong. She had spent quite a bit of time watching Callan and Merinus and talking to the friend she had nearly lost contact with. What she had heard hadn't sounded too bad, simply inconvenient. She just didn't have time to be inconvenienced in such a way.
"Keep pushing me," he warned her as he stepped closer to her desk. "You may not like the results."
That wasn't arrogance talking, she realized. It was pure fact.
Shaking her head, she watched him with what she hoped was cool interest. She was actually burning alive for him.
"And here I was actually starting to like you," she told him. "What happened to the man who fixed me dinner, who feeds my daughter at night so I can sleep?"
"I may as well," he retorted. "I'm awake every night, tempted by the scent of your arousal. The walls may be thick, sweetheart, but they're not that damned thick that the scent of your sweet pussy doesn't leave me aching."
She flushed. She hated it when she did that. Damn it, she had red hair; it should be illegal to make her blush. Of course, she should also have hell's own temper, and she was actually rather calm. For the most part.
"I can do without your attitude, Jonas." She stood to her feet, her head held high, and wished she presented a more imposing image. He stared back at her with that small glimmer of amusement in his gaze.
The glare was gone. It was a look she didn't care much for anyway. When he glared, the gentleness that was a glimmer of warmth in his gaze was absent. She rather liked that little light of warmth.
"I could do without your stubbornness," he informed her. "I put up with it anyway."
"My stubbornness?" She propped her hands on her hips and stared back at him with a frown. "How am I stubborn? I am the least stubborn person I know."
His black brows arched as he leaned against the doorframe. "Least stubborn?" His lips quirked. "Let's see, what was your nickname in high school again? I know I saw that on the background check I had run on you."
Her eyes widened. "Don't you dare, Jonas Wyatt." She laughed. She hadn't heard that nickname since she'd graduated.
"I could be bribed to forget it for a minute." He almost grinned. That little twitch at the corner of his mouth was completely charming.