Page 34 of Real Scale Blazer
“It’s purely practical,” she said. “You’re warm. The mountain is cold. Basic survival instincts.”
“Of course.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “Nothing to do with attraction at all.”
“Nope.” She popped thep, trying to maintain her composure even as her heart raced. “Pure science. Conservation of body heat. Very clinical.”
“Clinical.” He turned to face her fully, and suddenly the air felt charged with electricity. “Is that why you keep watching my mouth when I speak?”
Quinn’s breath caught. Had she been that obvious? “I don’t?—”
“Or why you lean into my touch, even when you’re pretending to be annoyed?” He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered against her cheek, burning like brands. “Tell me, scientist. What’s your clinical explanation for that?”
“I...” Her mind went blank as he leaned closer, his scent enveloping her. Pine and smoke and male dragon, a combination that made her head spin. “That’s not... I mean...”
“Yes?” His other hand settled on her waist, and she realized she’d shifted toward him without conscious thought. “I’m very interested in your scientific analysis.”
“You’re trying to distract me,” she managed, even as her hands came to rest on his chest. For balance, obviously. Nothing to do with how solid he felt beneath her palms.
“Is it working?”
Yes. God yes. But she couldn’t admit that out loud. Instead, she said, “You’re very sure of yourself for someone who can’t tell basalt from granite.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into her hands. “There’s my fierce little scientist. Always ready with a sharp tongue.”
“Don’t call me little.”
“No?” His eyes shifted to molten gold, and her stomach did a slow flip. “What should I call you then? Beautiful? Brilliant? Mine?”
The possessive growl in that last word sent heat pooling low in her belly. “I’m not yours.”
“Not yet.” His thumb traced her bottom lip, and her brain short-circuited. “But you want to be.”
“That’s...” Her voice emerged breathy, embarrassingly affected. “That’s a very bold assumption.”
“Is it?” He leaned closer until barely an inch separated them. “Tell me to stop, then. Tell me you don’t want this as much as I do.”
She should. She absolutely should. This was a terrible idea—mixing business with pleasure, getting involved with someone who clearly wanted more than she could give. She’d been down this road before, and it had ended in professional and personal disaster.
But Kai wasn’t Jason. He wasn’t trying to diminish her or control her. He supported her work, respected her boundaries (mostly), and looked at her like she hung the moons in the sky.
“Quinn.” His voice roughened with need. “Tell me.”
Instead of answering, she fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him down to her level. Their lips met in a crash of heat and hunger, and every rational thought fled her mind.
He kissed like he did everything else—with absolute focus and devastating skill. One hand tangled in her hair while the other splayed across her back, pulling her closer until she straddled his lap. She gasped at the new position, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss until she melted against him.
It should have frightened her, how quickly she lost control. How natural it felt to press closer, to let him take her weight, to trust him to hold her steady. But his touch made her feel simultaneously safer and more alive than she’d ever been, and fear was the last thing on her mind.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard. Kai’s eyes blazed gold, and his hands flexed against her like he was fighting the urge to never let go.
“Well,” she managed, her voice embarrassingly unsteady. “That was...”
“Perfect.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re perfect.”
Reality crashed back in, and Quinn scrambled off his lap. “This is a bad idea.”
“Why?” He didn’t try to grab her, but his eyes tracked her movement like a predator. “Because you’re afraid of feeling something real?”
“Because I’m here to work!” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Because getting involved with colleagues never ends well. Because you’re literally a king, and I’m just?—”