Misha was smart enough to let Riley go even though he was almost twitching with the obvious urge to follow. He got up slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, and watched in silence as Riley grabbed a set of clothes from his bag and got dressed. Riley pretended to ignore him until he was done, then stared back stonily, arms crossed, lips tight, unwilling to give an inch. If there was one thing about Misha he knew—had known from the start—it was that you had to draw your lines and stick to them, because Misha was used to being in command. Part of it was how he’d been raised, but mostly it was who he was. Assertive. Possessive. Take-charge. All nice and fine in bed most of the time, because Riley could appreciate being topped by an expert, but Riley had no intention of becoming Misha’s obedient little sub. He had plenty of alpha tendencies himself and didn’t plan on shelving them any time soon. Or ever.

They stood locked in a battle of wills for a few minutes, then Misha huffed quietly, spun around and walked over to the dresser. Riley saw him reach for the pitcher of water and turned away abruptly, suddenly very aware again of how thirsty he was and angry at Misha for reminding him.

His throat was almost painfully dry, ached with a soreness not even McClane could soothe, and, damn it, but he was hungry too. They’d never gotten that breakfast. He stared blindly at the window, drawn to the sound of water pouring into a glass, but too proud to give in and acknowledge his need. Thankfully, Misha didn’t make him ask for anything. He filled the glass to the brim, came over, and offered it to Riley with a one-sided shrug.

“We both know I’m an asshole sometimes. I’m sorry.”

Riley scowled some more, mostly annoyed with himself now for letting the barb get to him so much. It was an uncomfortable truth, but Misha was right: Riley had fucked a hit man and he’d liked it. Not Misha’s fault Riley didn’t know how to handle that.

“Don’t be so fucking stubborn,” Misha growled when Riley didn’t react to his apology quickly enough. “Take the damn water, you need it.”

We do, McClane piped up and nudged Riley’s hand up gently.

“Stop pushing me.”