irritation and arousal rioted through her body. Knox seemed to know just what buttons to push...and exactly when to push them.
“Wanker.”
“British swearwords? Doc, your ice princess is showing again.”
She wanted to laugh, but wouldn’t let herself. Mostly because he was only half-joking. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a cocky asshole, Knox McLemore?”
“On several occasions, but thanks for playing. We have some nice parting gifts.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
His face sobered. Avery wasn’t certain when the good-natured ribbing—something they seemed to delight in as a sort of foreplay—morphed into something more real. “I realize you didn’t mean it as one. But I promise there are worse things to be called.”
“Such as...”
Smoke billowed between them, obscuring the outline of his body for several seconds. It undulated, a frosted veil she couldn’t see clearly through. From behind the smoke a single word drifted up. “Murderer.”
The way he said it...it wasn’t a word he’d pulled out of the air, like
terrorist
. Now that, given his background, would have made more sense.
No, he said it with sadness and ownership that she didn’t understand.
“I’m guessing most murderers wouldn’t particularly care about carrying the label.”
The smoke drifting between them cleared.
“You’d be wrong.”
Her eyes locked with his. There was something in the way he looked at her—challenge, maybe. He was daring her to voice the obvious question.
Which was why she didn’t.
She didn’t understand what was behind his statement, but she knew Knox well enough—despite their short time together—to realize that while he obviously believed what he’d said, it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
The man who’d refused to accept what she was offering last night, because it went against some internal code about taking advantage, wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not without justification.
That much she recognized about Knox McLemore. And right now, that was more than enough.
8
W HERE THE HELL was Asher? Frustration mixed with a tiny trickle of fear sat heavily across Knox’s shoulders.
Avery stood at the edge of the beach, staring out across the open water. The sun was beginning its descent to the far horizon. He’d really hoped they’d be rescued by now.
As much as he tried to focus on other things—which had been easy when they’d needed water, food and shelter—now that the basics were covered, his mind kept circling back to one indisputable fact.
Their predicament was entirely his fault. If he hadn’t rushed after that box like a reckless cowboy, Avery wouldn’t be in this mess.
They could be stuck out here for weeks. Months. He knew Jackson, Asher, Kennedy and Loralei wouldn’t stop looking for them, but eventually the beacon would die and their one link to the outside world would disappear.
He’d been in worse scrapes...he just hadn’t dragged a civilian into them with him—although, he had to admit, Avery was handling things much better than he’d expected.
But he didn’t like being powerless, and while there was plenty to keep him physically occupied—building them shelter, fishing, exploring their island—there was nothing more he could do to improve their odds of being rescued.
He longed for something to quiet his brain and the self-recriminations that were less than helpful. Although, when he wasn’t thinking about that, his mind kept circling back to sex with Avery. And while that idea had kept his cock half-hard the entire day, that wasn’t how he wanted her—as a distraction. Because she was much more than that.
And without the swirl of darkness and moonshine, he was too aware that he didn’t actually trust Avery, even if he was beginning to really like her.
The need humming just beneath the surface of his skin didn’t really help. In fact, it made the whole damn situation worse.
He had to find another outlet. Fast. What he wouldn’t give for a
“Wanker.”
“British swearwords? Doc, your ice princess is showing again.”
She wanted to laugh, but wouldn’t let herself. Mostly because he was only half-joking. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a cocky asshole, Knox McLemore?”
“On several occasions, but thanks for playing. We have some nice parting gifts.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
His face sobered. Avery wasn’t certain when the good-natured ribbing—something they seemed to delight in as a sort of foreplay—morphed into something more real. “I realize you didn’t mean it as one. But I promise there are worse things to be called.”
“Such as...”
Smoke billowed between them, obscuring the outline of his body for several seconds. It undulated, a frosted veil she couldn’t see clearly through. From behind the smoke a single word drifted up. “Murderer.”
The way he said it...it wasn’t a word he’d pulled out of the air, like
terrorist
. Now that, given his background, would have made more sense.
No, he said it with sadness and ownership that she didn’t understand.
“I’m guessing most murderers wouldn’t particularly care about carrying the label.”
The smoke drifting between them cleared.
“You’d be wrong.”
Her eyes locked with his. There was something in the way he looked at her—challenge, maybe. He was daring her to voice the obvious question.
Which was why she didn’t.
She didn’t understand what was behind his statement, but she knew Knox well enough—despite their short time together—to realize that while he obviously believed what he’d said, it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
The man who’d refused to accept what she was offering last night, because it went against some internal code about taking advantage, wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not without justification.
That much she recognized about Knox McLemore. And right now, that was more than enough.
8
W HERE THE HELL was Asher? Frustration mixed with a tiny trickle of fear sat heavily across Knox’s shoulders.
Avery stood at the edge of the beach, staring out across the open water. The sun was beginning its descent to the far horizon. He’d really hoped they’d be rescued by now.
As much as he tried to focus on other things—which had been easy when they’d needed water, food and shelter—now that the basics were covered, his mind kept circling back to one indisputable fact.
Their predicament was entirely his fault. If he hadn’t rushed after that box like a reckless cowboy, Avery wouldn’t be in this mess.
They could be stuck out here for weeks. Months. He knew Jackson, Asher, Kennedy and Loralei wouldn’t stop looking for them, but eventually the beacon would die and their one link to the outside world would disappear.
He’d been in worse scrapes...he just hadn’t dragged a civilian into them with him—although, he had to admit, Avery was handling things much better than he’d expected.
But he didn’t like being powerless, and while there was plenty to keep him physically occupied—building them shelter, fishing, exploring their island—there was nothing more he could do to improve their odds of being rescued.
He longed for something to quiet his brain and the self-recriminations that were less than helpful. Although, when he wasn’t thinking about that, his mind kept circling back to sex with Avery. And while that idea had kept his cock half-hard the entire day, that wasn’t how he wanted her—as a distraction. Because she was much more than that.
And without the swirl of darkness and moonshine, he was too aware that he didn’t actually trust Avery, even if he was beginning to really like her.
The need humming just beneath the surface of his skin didn’t really help. In fact, it made the whole damn situation worse.
He had to find another outlet. Fast. What he wouldn’t give for a
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