Frostbitten (Otherworld 10)

"Then you're going to have to stop chasing me."

"Then you're going to have to stop running, and start following orders."

I laughed my answer to that. He leapt at me. I jumped onto the bed, scampering across it. I stopped before hopping off. He'd stayed on the other side of the bed, still on the floor, slowly making his way to the end of the bed, ready to dart around and cut me off. I backed up. He backed up. I started forward. He started forward.

"This isn't going to work," I said. "The room's too small."

"Then stop running."

"Pfft."

"I'm getting older, you know. Keep running and I might decide I'm just not all that interested."

I glanced down at his crotch. "You sure look interested."

"But you're not?"

I bounced on the bed. "I can take it or leave it."

Now it was his turn to laugh. Then he started peeling off his shirt.

I stopped bouncing. "Hey, that's cheating."

"If you aren't interested, it shouldn't bother you."

He tugged the shirt off over his head, taking a little extra effort with the motion, making sure all those perfectly defined muscles got into the action. He tossed the shirt onto the bed and grinned.

"Your indicators might not be as obvious as mine, darling, but that sure as hell looks like interested to me."

"It's been a long two weeks."

He stepped back, eyeing the bed, considering a leap. "I'm sure you found ways to relieve the pressure."

"Actually, no. I waited."

"You...?"

"Waited. Isn't that what you always say? Get spoiled, and you only want the real thing? Better to build up an appetite? Well..." I met his gaze. "I guess I'm spoiled now, too."

He leapt onto the bed, coming at me so fast that I tripped trying to get off the other side. As I fell, he grabbed for my leg. I managed to jump up, standing on the bed again, sidestepping his grasp, then leaping over to the tiny desk. It groaned under my weight.

"If you break that, Jeremy won't be happy."

"I won't need to, if you stop chasing me."

He slid slowly off the bed, measuring the distance between us. "Always my fault, isn't it?"

"Always."

He lunged. I saw it coming and vaulted over his head for the bed again. As I jumped, my foot sent the desk lamp crashing into the wall.

"My fault, I suppose," Clay said.

"Naturally."

He started circling the bottom of the bed, then twisted, lunging and knocking my legs out, tackling me to the bed. This time, I couldn't get away. I tried... well, kind of. Within seconds, though, he had me pinned beneath him, face looming over mine.

"So what's this about waiting for me?" he said.