They shouldn’t be here together. The more time he spent in her presence, the more she meant to him. He…caredfor her.
He couldn’t afford to care. Especially not forher.
Clear, innocent violet-blue eyes looked back at him.
He’d never beheld a grown woman’s eyes as guileless as hers. So untried in carnal knowledge, in the age-old dance between a man and a woman.
There was passion there, aye. More than Wolfe had ever witnessed or known. And all of it was focused onhim.
She wanted himbadly.
At the same time, there was naivete. As if all she knew was that she wanted, but if he pressed her to tell himwhatshe wanted, he would bet his sword and dagger that she wouldn’t know.
That kiss that wasn’t a kiss that she’d given him… It said it all.
He shook his head.
Both at her and at his own rampant need. He shouldn’t do this. He was a bastard and a ruffian, but he didn’t despoil innocents.
He wouldn’t ruinRui.
He was about to turn around and walk away when she all but leapt upon him, taking him by surprise and tackling him to the ground.
She wound her strong legs between his and twisted, making him roll until he was flat on his back and she sat astride his middle, her arms cinched around his head and neck in a choke hold.
At first, his instincts tensed him for retribution, thinking she was springing a sneak attack on him, that he’d somehow misjudged her and let his guard down with the wrong opponent.
But then, with his head held tight by the brace of her arms, right where she wanted him, she leaned down to press her lips to his in a wet, resounding smack.
“Ha! I have you now!” she crowed, grinning with triumph down at him.
Was she fucking serious right now?!
He was a hair’s breadth from losing all control and she was playing kissing games?
He growled and wrestled with her in earnest, using his superior upper body strength to flip them over, changing their positions.
But before he could keep her pinned beneath him with his much heavier bulk, she used his own momentum and weight to rock into him and somehow pulled them both into a convoluted roll, where she landed back on top. This time, she added a hard bounce as she sat on his middle, squashing the air right out of his lungs.
While he gasped for breath, she kissed him again, adding a daring lick with her small, pink tongue before squeezing her legs around his waist in an iron vice, her arms again immobilizing his head in a deadly choke hold.
“Yield,” she commanded. “I win. It’s only fair that I have my prize.”
He tried to buck her off, but she merely tightened her legs, choking his torso until his ribs protested and his spine creaked in warning.
He tried to squeeze her in return with his own arms, but he couldn’t make himself use his full strength. He didn’t want to hurt her.
Besides, her choke hold on his head and neck allowed just enough air to pass for him to stay conscious. There wasn’t much left to fuel his muscles. His extremities were turning numb, his hands barely obeying his will. With the slightest increase in pressure, she could force him to black out.
He knew it. She knew it. She had indeed won this round.
If this was how she wrestled, so effortlessly twisting him into a knot, weak and immobilized and at her mercy, then he pitied her opponents on the morrow.
He barely restrained a grin of pride.
Roundly defeated, he tapped her back gently with fingers that were starting to lose all feeling.
I yield,the tap said.