“Well, then.” He relaxed his muscles to alleviate some of the pressure from the blade. “Don’t miss the jugular, sweetheart.”
“If I did,” she said in the haughty tone he’d never heard until the night he’d wanted her to abandon her post with the Protective Forces, “it would only be to start someplace lower.”
Ouch. That would hurt. Because he was rather fond of his balls, he tried to placate her. “Clever of you to figure out the coordinates of the gold.”
“Greedy of you to steal it.”
“What can I say?” He knew there was triumph and gloating in his voice. “It was one of those challenges too tempting to pass up. It’s not everyday I get to compete against someone as cunning as myself.”
The blade fell away from his neck. D.T. dared to take the opportunity to look at her. Gizelle’s long, light brown hair fell in soft waves around her slender shoulders. She wore an alluring outfit that, for the moment, he had to ignore because there was something more pressing to deal with than how breathtakingly beautiful she was.
Gizelle stood beside him with a look of incredulity on her pretty face. No, it was worse than that. The words you rat bastard pirate seemed to linger on her tongue, unspoken for the moment.
He was smart enough to not make any sudden movements. Turning slowly in his chair, he locked his gaze on Gizelle’s. She stared at him as though he truly were the scum of the century. The biggest disgrace in two galaxies. Maybe three. And that cut to the quick. For the moment, he overlooked the disdain he saw.
“Look,” D.T. began. “I can explain about the gold. In fact, it’s all yours, baby. I didn’t steal it to keep it.”
“Liar!” Her fury was quick and vehement. Her arm shot out and that damned blade was pressed against his skin once more at his Adam’s apple. But D.T. wasn’t one to be toyed with for long. In a swift move, he caught her unaware and struck the underside of her wrist with his knuckles. Her dagger went sailing across the room. D.T. felt the slight nick on his throat from the jerk of the blade, but he knew it wasn’t serious.
While Gizelle was still off guard, he grabbed her other wrist and pulled her to him. Losing her balance on the tall heels she was obviously unaccustomed to wearing, she literally fell into his lap.
Exactly where he wanted her.
Well, maybe not exactly where he wanted her. But it was a good start.
“First, let’s keep the sharp objects away from the flesh and all my favorite body parts, huh, sweetheart?”
“I still have my laser gun.”
D.T.’s teeth ground together. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ellie. I told you the treasure was yours.”
“As if I’d believe you.” She glared at him. “And don’t call me that. You gave up all rights to terms of endearment a long time ago.”
His eyes locked with hers, his own temper flaring. “Because I asked you to stay with me? Really, that was such a cruel and unfair request?”
She opened her mouth to protest, he was sure, but then promptly closed it. D.T. raised an eyebrow. He waited a spell.
Finally, she said, “All you care about is yourself. If you’re offering up that huge bounty, there have to be strings attached. I know you too well, D.T.”
His jaw tightened. For a few moments, he debated what to say. What to do. Because she was right, of course.
She shifted in his lap in an attempt to get away, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on her. He clutched her wrist, though not so tight that it would hurt. His other arm snaked around her waist. D.T. settled more comfortably in his oversized chair, and Gizelle had no choice but to situate herself, too. Her hip pressed against his groin, and her shoulder rested against his chest.
He inhaled her enticing scent. The fragrance was fresh and crisp like the cleansing aroma of a light rainfall. It reminded him of early summer on renewed Earth, pre-war, when the grass turned deep green and vibrant wildflowers dotted the hills. He hadn’t really wanted to leave that home as a young man, except for the burning desire he’d had to help protect the planet from the invading force.
Her mere scent
reminded him of simpler times. It stirred a sense of innocence and naïvete every human being possessed before coming of age, before the reality of adulthood and combat and tragedy tainted all of the optimistic views of youth.
Suddenly, D.T. wanted nothing more than to end this argument with Gizelle and somehow find their way back to where they’d been when they’d first met. That coveted nothing-matters-at-this-very-moment-except-you-and-I phase. Before they’d started talking about the war and she’d told him what she did in the name of freedom and he hadn’t told her what he did. When they’d left battles and politics out of the equation, everything had been perfect between them.
Thinking about those passionate nights made D.T.’s erection grow. It didn’t help that Gizelle’s heat and proximity worked wicked magic on his body.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he managed to ask, though his voice was tight with a sudden need for her. She distracted him on so many levels.
“Clothes, D.T.”
He cocked his head at her, particularly because her sarcasm was dulled by the hint of desire that crept into her voice.