Her breasts tingled. It was late and her defenses were down, while her emotions were up. “Think of another plan because I’m not leaving right now. The team, if we’re staying together, needs me. You know that.” She was the one who held them together.

“You’re more important than any team,” he said softly, towering over her without meaning to do so. A dark desperation swirled in his deep, green eyes, drawing her to him more surely than any challenge could.

His sweetness would always be her undoing. Even so, she lifted her chin. “The answer is no.”

“There wasn’t a question,” he said.

That was it. She shoved him, right in the gut. Faster than she could follow, he manacled both of her wrists and turned them, putting her butt to the wall. Gently but firmly. He stepped into her, his spicy male scent washing over her entire body.

“You don’t want this,” he rumbled, his voice hoarse.

“Maybe you don’t,” she challenged, her breath quickening. There wasn’t anything she wanted more right now than his mouth on her. “What are you afraid of, Angus? Little ole me?” Yeah, she could take him down with one move.

He scoffed. “Right.”

Challenge accepted. She lifted her leg and curled it, catching him behind the knee while pushing her whole body forward. At the last second she twisted and sent him down to land on his back on the thick carpet.

He kept her hands, yanking back, and let gravity pull her down.

She landed on him, the breath whooshing out of her lungs from impact with his hard chest. In one smooth motion he rolled them over, pinning her arms above her head.

Her gasp was half cough and half laugh. She tried to pull up her knees to get leverage with her heels.

“Oh no you don’t.” He flattened his legs over hers, pinning them.

God, he felt good on top of her. Solid and strong. An immovable object in a dark and frightening world. She smiled, not bucking against him. “You can’t keep this hold forever.” Her legs were immobile and he had her wrists extended above her. She could headbutt him, but they weren’t in a real fight, so giving herself another concussion and possibly breaking his nose seemed like overkill. But it was in her arsenal, just in case. “You make one move and you lose your leverage.”

For an answer, he secured both of her wrists in one of his large hands. “I made a move. Your turn.”

She couldn’t. Well, not without hurting both of them. She could call for the dog to help, but she didn’t want to confuse or scare Roscoe. “There’s not much you can do with that free hand at the moment,” she whispered.

His eyelids dropped to half-mast. “Are you about done throwing challenges?”