For the first time since he burst through the motel room door with tear gas, she didn’t appear to be scared or angry. Instead, she shined with lust, want, and reckless need, most likely, a mirror image of him. Hot desire pulsed through him like a dangerous toxin. Losing focus would get them both killed.

She tilted her head away from him, laughed to herself, and pushed off the seat. “Deal with stress like that, huh?”

What did she just say?

“Stress? I don’t get stressed out, doll.” She thought he needed a release from stress? How about a release from her continuous feminine hum and sweet fragrance that she radiated? Or the breathtaking way she wrapped her hands in his shirt, pulling him close? Never mind how she struggled to open her legs to him. Heaven help him.

“So that was just…?” Mia fingered stray strands of her hair.

“C’mon, Mia. Don’t psychoanalyze me with your therapy stuff. That was what it was. A hell of a kiss.”

“That was more than a kiss.”

He needed a release, preferably by working out, pounding pavement, or engaging in a hell of a spar. Any type that didn’t come in the form of Mia Kensington. Instead, he threw an argumentative glance her way, pushed the truck into gear, slammed his foot on the gas pedal, and burned rubber as they ate pavement.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mia studied Winters at the wheel as he drove. He acted relaxed with one hand thrown over the steering wheel like they hadn’t been someone’s target practice all day long, just as he had the moment before his lips met hers. She never saw it coming. Maybe wished it. Wanted it. Thought about it. But never anticipated it.

The kiss was hot and wet. Needy. His tongue slashed across hers, and his cheek stubble rasped her skin. With each graze of it, her stomach flipped. His raw masculinity rolled through her like a bulldozer. The sudden onslaught set her nerve endings afire. Her body ached for him, craving more. The whole thing lasted only moments, but it felt like a wonderful eternity. She had been lost in him. And when he drew away, a coldness slapped its frosty fingers across her skin.

She hadn’t been thinking, only feeling. And she wanted to crawl back onto him. Her blood still boiled for him, but heck if she’d let him see that. He was cool and collected, and focused on the road.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Oh well, she could at least pretend to be in the same ballpark of awareness. She could do disinterested and bored. Her interest was purely a subjective awareness of him as a virile man, and the result of enough adrenaline to kill an elephant. Psychology was on her side for this one.

His arm, no longer slung over her, rested close as they drove in silence. This would have been awkward if he acted like he gave a damn. Which he obviously didn’t. She pouted.