Page 14 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

“I don’t suppose we could bring this touching reunion to an end and actually make some progress? I know,” he added when she opened her mouth. “It’s not about making progress.”

She laughed. “You admitted it! I think that means I’m making progress after all.”

He couldn’t help it. He smiled at her triumphant expression, and her smile widened even further.

“A real smile, finally. I knew you could do it. I think I’ll start calling you Smiley.”

“Why do I suspect that telling you not to will only encourage you to use it more often?” he grumbled.

“Because you’re getting to know me pretty well?”

Not as well as I’d like to know you.

He pushed aside the unwanted thought, but he still reached down and pulled her to her feet. Bront rose at the same time, and either by accident or design, managed to push her against him. Those sweet little curves were plastered the full length of his front again, and his body responded, his cock throbbing against his sheath.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, and once again he had the foolish impulse to bend down and press a kiss to those pretty lips. Instead he forced himself to take a step back, this time managing to avoid Bront’s oversized body, and pointed at the path ahead.

“Walk,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir, Captain Smiley, sir.”

She pretended to snap a salute, and once again he couldn’t prevent his lips from twitching. The triumphant look returned, but she didn’t comment before setting off along the trail.

Although her enthusiasm never faltered, he could tell her steps were beginning to lag as the day drew to a close. Remembering his frustration at watching her wrestle with the tent the previous night, he debated their other options.

He had an emergency shelter not far from their current path. It wasn’t much, but it was already assembled, and would provide more shelter than her ridiculous little tent. He refused to admit he liked the idea of seeing her in a place that he had built, but when they came to the fork in the path, he didn’t hesitate to direct her down the branch that led to his shelter.

She didn’t even question him, and he couldn’t decide if he was more pleased by her trust, or irritated by her lack of caution.

He forced himself to concentrate on the path ahead, ignoring her questions and cheerful comments about their surroundings. Her voice was like birdsong—soft, curious, persistent—but he refused to let it get under his skin. The pretty little photographer might be tempting, but she was still human—impulsive and reckless. Dangerous.

His ears twitched at each lilting question, and he clenched his jaw to avoid answering her. He couldn’t encourage her—or let his guard drop. His tail flicked in agitation as he fought the urge to drop back to her side where he could watch her expressive little face or even take her hand. Instead, Bront padded happily beside her, all three heads focused on her as if she were the most fascinating creature in the forest.Traitor.

“The mushrooms here are incredible! Look at those colors?—”

He told himself he didn’t care when her questions started to taper off, but the increasing silence gnawed at him. Against his better judgment, he glanced back—and cursed under his breath. Her face was pale, her small white teeth biting into her lower lip as if trying to hide her pain. Fuck.

He crossed the distance between them in two swift strides, his hooves silent on the mossy ground.

“Stubborn little thing,” he growled, scooping her up before he could think of all the reasons why he shouldn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me your ankles were bothering you?”

She let out a small gasp, her hands flying to his shoulders. The contact burned through his skin, and he fought the urge to pull her closer. She weighed nothing in his arms, fragile and warm against his chest. Her tantalizing scent wrapped around him, making his head spin as she gave him an apologetic look.

“I don’t understand. They’ve been fine up until now.”

“The vines contain a slow-acting neurotoxin. I thought your socks and boots had protected you.” An unforgivably foolish assumption on his part. “Instead they only delayed the reaction even more.”

“I think I can walk,” she protested, but she was still clinging to him.

“You’ll only slow us down,” he said gruffly.

He expected her usual protest about not needing to move faster, but for once she was silent. He gave in and adjusted his grip to tuck her closer against his chest, telling himself it was for practicality, nothing more. But her soft curves pressed against him, and heat coursed through his veins.

The forest blurred at the edges. How long since he’d held anyone like this? Since he’d let someone close enough to?—

No.

He tightened his grip, jaw clenched. She was human, and humans only brought destruction and heartbreak. He’d witnessed it firsthand, carved the scars into his memory.

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