Danger That Is Damion by Lisa Renee Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

voice, deep and masculine, was fairly entertaining.
    “Your hair’s matted inside the cut,” he said, watching as she straightened fully and shoved that mass of gorgeous hair from her face. “We may need to throw a few stitches in it to speed the healing.” He motioned to the right. “You can use the shower in the back of the facility, and then I’ll have another look. I need to check on my team anyway.
    “And just so we’re clear. If you get any ideas about an escape, don’t bother. You’re in here until I say you’re out.”
    “Until I steal your gun, and make you let me out,” she said matter-of-factly.
    “Good luck with that,” he said. “Why don’t you wait until that head wound heals, and you’re feeling feisty again?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. “We’ll have more fun that way.”
    “Fine then,” she agreed. “That gives me time to plan the moment of revenge, when I turn you upside down like you did to me.” She pushed to her feet and wobbled, reaching for the chair.
    He rolled his chair forward and caught her, wrapped his arms around her—holding her steady, holding her close. She was tiny and soft and yielded to his touch—as if her subconscious trusted him, even if she did not. “Easy, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I wasn’t joking about how bad that head wound is.”
    She grabbed his arms and steadied herself, her eyes fluttering as if she were light-headed. “Thank you.”
    He narrowed a probing look at her. “You really are a contradiction, aren’t you? One minute you have the vocabulary of a sailor, cursing up a storm, and the next, automatically saying ‘thank you’ and ‘please.’”
    “I don’t curse like a sailor,” she argued, and when he arched a brow, she indignantly added, “If you had your bikini-clad backside hiked in the air, in a strange man’s face, I bet you’d discover a few four-letter words too.”
    “If I was wearing bikini bottoms, I hope and pray someone would kill me long before my butt was hiked in the air and in some man’s face.”
    She laughed, her expression shifting to quick surprise, as if she couldn’t believe she was sharing such a moment with him. “I’m trying to imagine you, the big, macho Renegade—in bikini bottoms.” Her eyes actually twinkled as she added, “Maybe a pink pair with flowers.”
    “I’m going to take the big, macho Renegade comment as a compliment, but then again, with you, I’m not sure it is. And for the record, I’m not the pink flower type. I’m the American Flag type.” And then, because he had the undeniable urge to hear that soft, sweet laugh of hers again, because laughter bred trust, he added, “Or Spider-Man. Nothing like a good pair of Spidey boxers.” She rewarded him with a soft musical laugh, and he wondered if she realized she was still holding onto him, because he did. Every damn inch of him was alive with that little piece of awareness.
    “You wear Spider-Man underwear?” she asked.
    “You got a problem with Spider-Man?”
    “No,” she said, a smile lingering behind her laughter. “There’s nothing wrong with Spider-Man. You’re pretty funny. For a GTECH .”
    “You’re pretty funny too,” he said. “ For a GTECH. ”
    The smile on her lips faded into the crackle of spiking sexual energy arcing between them. She drew a ragged breath, and he knew then, she was aware of their nearness, of his hands on her hips.
    She pressed out of his arms and took several steps to her right, out of his reach. “Where can I find that shower?” she asked.
    With the discomfort of his bulging zipper, and a mass of frustration over her withdrawal, Damion ran his hands down his knees and stood, motioning for her to follow him. “This way.” He started walking, letting her follow, giving her his back and his trust in doing so, even though she wouldn’t give him hers. It was trust she didn’t deserve when she wouldn’t tell him her name… and swore she wanted to kill him.
    In his