"I don't like you," she said, even as her hands betrayed her—resting lightly on his chest.
"You keep saying that." His breath brushed her cheek, maddeningly soft. "Yet here you are... always reaching for me."
Reana made the mistake of glancing at his mouth.
And Ryder, wicked as sin, saw it.
With a slow, smug smile, he dipped his head lower, voice rough velvet. "Want me to kiss you?"
She didn't answer.
So he kissed her.
Gently, at first—a whisper of contact. Then firmer. Deeper. Like he'd been starving for the rebellion on her lips, and now he was feasting.
And stars damn her, she kissed him back.
When they broke apart, her palm covered his mouth—trembling slightly.
"Stop your seduction," she whispered. "I need to know what kind of enemy we're facing."
How the hell did they end up like this? The conversation had been about—
Ryder laughed lowly, the sound muffled against her hand.
