Page 37 of Brawler
She rose from her crouch and approached him. “Maybe we’ll see how much ground I can cover.”
He unsnapped his helmet and removed it, securing it by its chin strap to his ruck. He bit his bottom lip and her system went haywire. “Is that a threat?”
She moved in closer, her hand going to his waist. “A promise, Big Bad Wolf.” She removed a bandanna from her back pocket, slid her hand under his vest, gripping it for balance as she went up on her tiptoes, leaning into his chest. Carefully wiping away the sweat from his brow, she then gently fluffed his hair with her fingers, the damp strands like silk against her skin. God, she wanted more.
“Emily,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
She would never get sick of her name spoken in that gravel-rough voice, soaked in something so sweet, her breath caught. Ben never said her name like that. Not one man ever had. But every woman should find a man who uttered the very core of her identity with that kind of emotion.
“Worth an itty bitty SD card?” she said in a cajoling tone.
There was that smile again. His eyes opened, lids heavy, gray irises molten like storm-light simmering behind glass. At half-mast, they weren’t just watchful. They were sultry, lazy-dangerous, the kind of gaze that made her stomach flip and her pulse hammer. Not just pewter steel, but softer at the edges, almost liquid, the color deepening as though he’d let her see something private, something only for her.
“You playing me, working your pixie magic?” he asked, voice low, husky.
“Yes.”
Her grin widened when his laugh rolled out, rich and carefree, the sound vibrating through his chest under her palm.
“God, that smile should be illegal,” she muttered, swiping a smear of dirt from his cheek before leaning away from him. She meant it as teasing, but his reaction wasn’t teasing at all. His smile faltered, eyes locking on hers like she’d just crossed a line no one else dared. He caught her wrist, brought it to his mouth, and kissed her there. Then, impossibly, his mouth curved wider, softer, as if she’d cracked him open further than he intended.
Her skin tingled where the warmth of his lips had touched. No one kissed her like that, reverent and claiming all at once. “Give me the card before we get ourselves into something…more dangerous than the people hunting us.”
He crouched, set his pack down, pulled out a leash, and set it down on the ground, rummaged around, and produced the card. “You may be tiny, but you’re mighty.”
“Donotstart calling me Mighty Mouse.” She shoved his shoulder, and he chuckled.
“It fits,” he murmured, and his tone told her he meant it in ways that had nothing to do with cartoons. “But we could make a deal. You retire Jolly Green Giant, and I might consider it.”
She huffed out a scoffing laugh. You’re just teasing me, aren’t you?
His grin gave him away. “Maybe. It could be that I like all your nicknames for me, and I’m just giving you a hard time?”
“Okay, then that, my friend, is a deal-breaker. Not a chance in hell. Although, you’re living up to your namesake just a tad more than, oh, say when we tumbled down that hill.”
“Shortcake,” he growled with nothing but exasperated affection.
She changed out the card, aware of every inch of that sexy man. She couldn’t imagine Ben engaging with her like this, playing to her teasing side, stirring her up with his reactions to her touch. God, she just wanted to touch him all the more. She hadn’t felt that, ever.Could I possibly deserve it?
Noticing he’d forgotten the leash, she scooped it up and tucked it into her belt.
Shepulled a branch from the undergrowth. With quick, efficient sweeps, she dragged it behind her boots, brushing away the line of prints. The jungle floor gave away too much. She knew. She’d kept track of Sombra easily.
Brawler’s voice rumbled behind her. “We should cut around. Easier ground.”
She shook her head, tilting her chin toward the gray hump of rock rising out of the green. “No. If anyone’s following us, the stone will break the trail. They’ll lose our tracks.”
His scowl was so heavy she could feel it between her shoulder blades. “I’m aware. It’s steep. Risky.”
Ah. Not the terrain. Her. He didn’t trust she could climb it.
Emily started to snap back, but his next words stopped her cold.
“You can probably handle it,” he said, surprising her. “That’s not the problem. No broken ankles on my watch.”
She blinked at him, thrown off balance. He wasn’t questioning her skill. He was questioning his ability to protect her. “You seem to think I can’t take care of myself. I don’t need you to baby me out here.”
He cleared his throat. “It’s what I do.”
