Critics claimed her photography was “inspiring,” “daring,” and “life-changing.” They should get a glimpse of what she was studying right now. If only she had her camera out to capture this. It didn’t matter. She’d never forget how Braden looked right now. He was firm and lean and tan and had striated muscles in all the right places. Her pulse was speeding along so fast she wondered if she should put her head between her knees and take some deep breaths.
“I apologize,” he said.
“For looking like a male model?” she tried to quip. “Dang straight you should apologize for that.”
His cheek crinkled in an appealing grin. “For forgetting to grab my bag or pulling out a T-shirt and shorts.”
She nodded. “Gotcha. Definitely apologize for that, but never apologize for being a vision.”
He laughed and got that look in his eyes that was quickly becoming familiar. He was going to get close to her, and if she was the luckiest woman on earth, he would kiss her.
Thankfully for her weak state of mind, he seemed to remember he was only wearing a towel. The look changed to a chagrined smile. He strode over, grabbed his bag, and then hurried back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Maddie shouldn’t have watched his every move. But she did.
She needed a distraction. She needed some help. She’d been taught from birth on up that she could always turn to heaven. If only. Not only was she a weapon who killed with precision, but she’d just ogled and lusted after this man. She was a bad person, even if she protected the innocent every chance she got. Deep down, she was wicked.
She turned off the lights, only leaving his lamp on, and then she sank onto her side of the bed, sitting on the edge and gnawing at her thumbnail again. How in the world was she going to get through this night? She’d been in a lot of sketchy situations, but nothing had been as dangerous for her heart or her self-constructed protective barriers as her interactions during the past few hours with one irresistible Lieutenant Braden Moyle.
ChapterFive
Maddie only had the time it would take Braden to get dressed to form a solid plan to keep her distance from him until she completed whatever assignment this had turned into. It would be easier to infiltrate a trafficking ring than to resist that incredible man. Would she ever get the vision of him in a towel out of her mind? More appealing than that was how fun he was to tease with and how he seemed to see the real her, but somehow not be repelled by the darkness and run the other direction. Was he okay with her being cold and unfeeling? Was he hoping to be the one to heal her?
She shuddered at the thought of him seeing how dark she was on the inside.
The bathroom door opened.
She flopped back onto the pillow, squeezed her eyes shut, and drew in and out loud, obnoxious breaths.
Braden chuckled. “Fake sleeping is an art form. How’d you learn to do it so well?”
Pressing her lips together so she wouldn’t smile, she kept her eyes closed so she wouldn’t stare at him again. “A medicine man in a tribe in the Andes Mountains.”
“Hmm. Almost as impressive as your fighting abilities.”
“Thank you. I’ve worked hard on both.” She couldn’t hide her smile and she was dying to open her eyes.
The bed moved as he sank down on the other side. Her breathing immediately sped up. She opened her eyes, despite telling herself not to. Maybe if she saw him in a T-shirt and shorts, she could eradicate the image of him in a towel. Curling onto her side, she found herself face to face with him. He was stretched out with one arm tucked behind his head. His hair was damp, his face far too handsome, and he looked almost as good in a simple T-shirt and basketball-type shorts as he had in that dang towel. She wondered if she’d ever be able to forget him in that towel.
For some stupid reason, she was almost panting for air.
Braden’s lips curved into an inviting smile. “Is breathing really fast a skill you’ve worked on too?”
“But of course.” She pulled on all her flirting skills, honed from years of interaction with men. “It’s a very effective skill for making men think I’m interested when truly I have no interest at all.”
His eyebrows lifted. She gave him an impertinent, sassy look, and rolled the other direction, facing away from him.
“No interest at all?” he asked softly.
Maddie was terrified of him. He had the ability to break through walls she didn’t think even the Incredible Hulk could penetrate. She’d often fancied herself to be like Natasha, the Black Widow, and wondered if she’d ever meet her Dr. Banner, but she imagined any romantic story for her would turn out worse than Natasha and the Hulk’s had.
Right now, she was indulging in warm feelings she needed to ignore. The memory of Braden saying she was cold and unfeeling was far away. There was nothing cold or unfeeling about her right now.
No interest at all?
“None,” she lied. She kept facing away and hoped he wouldn’t invade her space. If he moved an inch, she’d have no choice but to deploy her hair-trigger elbow into some unfortunate part of his body. “How’s your hand, rib, and head?” she asked, wincing at the damage she had caused. She usually didn’t let it bother her, but she usually didn’t beat up people she actually cared about.
“Fine.”
“I told you I’d get an ice pack. Do you need an ice pack?” She edged over to stand, but his hand was suddenly on her arm. She flinched and almost elbowed him, but something held her back. Heat flared from his touch and she realized this bed was much, much smaller than she’d thought. And she needed him to keep his distance.