Page 17 of Jager's Prey
Mack leaned forward and took both my hands in his. He then moved them to the clips on the sides of his prosthetic and slipped my index fingers underneath a part of them.
“Push up.” His voice was soft, husky.
When he released my hands, I did as he suggested. They clicked out of place before I did the same to the ones in the other sections. He pulled his leg upward and the stump popped out easily. Carefully, I set the piece aside, then peeled the sock off.
“The swelling is worse down here.” I told him, tracing up the leg to his knee.
“It gets that way sometimes.” His voice cracked. “Like I said, this isn’t the piece to wear when I’m running for my life.”
I looked up at him and he was smiling at me.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked him.
He stared down at me for a moment, his expression softening. I couldn’t look away. It was almost as if his eyes held me captive even as he leaned forward and caught my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger.
Slowly, he brought my chin upward.
When his eyes drifted close, I knew what was coming.
I saw it coming a mile away and though it had been a very long time since I’d been kissed, and I had gone out of my way to avoid intimacy with anyone, I wanted this.
The kiss wasn’t as rough as I thought it would be. Mack was tender, soft, allowing me to control it. Sighing, I melted forward, braced my palms to the floor and offered him my mouth.
Something traced down my spine that felt like fire.
Suddenly I couldn’t breathe and had to pull my lips away from him.
I sighed. “Why—why did you do that?”
“Why did I kiss you?” Mack asked.
I closed my eyes but nodded.
“I’m sure you recognize when a man wants to kiss you.” Mack’s voice cracked. “When he wants you.”
“I—”
“You do recognize when a man is attracted to you, right?”
I glanced away from him for a moment before looking up at him again. “I’ve never—”
“Do you want me to apologize?”
“Um.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
I struggled for something to say. This wasn’t the kind of situation I’d ever been in. No man had ever looked at me and thought,well she can take down a man twice her size, knows two hundred ways to kill a person and make it look like an accident—I want that one.
Cage screamed from upstairs.
I dove across the space to grab my gun from where I had it stashed in my bag. “Stay here!”
“I’m coming with you!”
“Mack, your leg is swollen.” I snapped. “I don’t have time to argue with you.”
I darted from the room to grab a second gun and rushed back to hand it to him.
Leaving him, I charged up the stairs and barged into the room, gun up, ready. But Cage was sitting up in the bed, drenched in sweat, tears streaming down his face.
