He wanted her, and that wanting pissed him off. He might not force her into anything, but he craved her touch as much as she craved his.
Maelea’s heart thumped hard as he turned and left. In the silence, her body tingled with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. And that darkness inside—the darkness that was drawn to him—vibrated with excitement. She could do this. So long as she remembered what was at stake here, she could do this and win. For the first time in her life, she held the power.
Freedom was at her fingertips. All she had to do was reach out and grasp it.
Chapter Eleven
Fresh clothes were sitting on the bathroom counter when Maelea yanked the shower curtain open. The door was ajar. Faint sounds of a TV echoed in the next room, but Gryphon was nowhere to be seen. Tugging the towel tighter to her dripping body, she stepped out of the tub and fingered the drab brown T-shirt and khaki pants Gryphon had picked out for her in that army surplus store.
Not exactly the sexy bedroom look she was going for, but she wasn’t ready to go out there in her birthday suit. She had to ease into this whole seductive siren role. She wasn’t Skyla, for crying out loud.
She tossed her wet undergarments over the shower rod to dry, then tugged on the pants, which were a good size too big, and pulled on the top. Her nipples hardened in the cool air, pressing against the rough cotton, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. And if he found it sexy, well, that was the goal, right? After all, it’d be the only sexy part of this whole ensemble. After towel-drying her hair, she finger-combed her long locks as best she could, then drew in a deep breath.
Showtime.
Her nerves hummed as the stained, worn strands of the carpet brushed her bare feet. She turned the corner, then stilled as she caught sight of him standing in front of the TV, the remote in his hand, his gaze locked on the screen as he flipped channels, looking for…she didn’t know what.
Blue-green light flickered off his bare chest, highlighted the tight muscles in his stomach and the dangerously low camo pants hanging loosely on his hips. Her gaze traveled down his legs to his bare toes, peeking from beneath the cuffs of his pants. And she was startled to realize that for the first time since she’d met him, he looked more human than monster. More man than warrior.
What would she think of him if she’d met him in a bar? In a restaurant? At the theater? She dragged her attention from his rock-hard body, up his torso to his face. His jaw was set in a hard line, covered in a dusting of stubble that matched his blond hair. Even she could see he was movie-star handsome, even with the smattering of scars from battles fought over the years. Yeah, if she’d met him anywhere else, she’d have been intrigued. She’d have wondered who he was and whom he went home to. And she’d likely have gone back to her house on Lake Washington and fantasized about him for at least one night, probably more.
That realization sent a tremor of awareness through her body, heating her blood, igniting electric tingles all along her skin. As if he’d just realized he wasn’t alone, he looked her way, and those eyes, those Caribbean blue eyes that reminded her of paradise, focused in on her, latched on tight, and tugged at something deep inside. Her breath caught. Even before she realized it, she was taking a step in his direction, moving as if someone else or something else was controlling her.
His eyes slid over her body, from the top of her wet head to the bottom of her bare toes, and the heat of his stare washed over every inch of her skin, stirring those tingles to full-on vibrations she couldn’t stop.
“I thought you might have drowned in there.”
His voice was rough, bringing nerve endings to life that ramped up her awareness and teased her to states of arousal she shouldn’t be feeling. Oh, man. Maybe she should go back and flip that shower to cold. Was seduction really a good idea, when she was having so much trouble controlling her body’s reaction to him?
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“N-nothing.”
His scrutinizing gaze said he didn’t believe her. But he nodded toward the table instead of pressing for more. “The kid brought food. You should eat.”
Happy for the distraction—any distraction—she moved to the table and sat in the scuffed chair. He pulled a box from the bag, set it in front of her. Added a carton of fries, then stripped the paper off a straw and stuck it in the drink next to her hand. “If cheeseburgers won’t do—”
“That’s fine,” she said, opening the box and lifting the burger. It was already cool, but her stomach rumbled at the sight.