It hadn’t taken a genius to realize Asher was nervous. Which meant they’d gone straight from a long day of shooting back to her room for a practice session...not exactly what she’d expected when Asher whispered that promise into her ear.
But the job came first. Asher needed her to be on her game and she needed the rest of filming to go smoothly.
They’d decided to go over the list of questions she’d prepared in anticipation of what Daniel might want him to discuss.
Kennedy assumed Asher’s restless energy stemmed from concern over his fear of the camera and worry about his stutter.
Although she hadn’t heard it in days, it had resurfaced the first time she’d asked him a question in front of the camera.
The tenser he became, the more pronounced the stutter. And she was getting frustrated, because she had no idea how to help him. Not really.
Rubbing a hand across her forehead, Kennedy looked down at the paper in her lap, reading off a question they’d covered more than once.
“Tell me the story of the Chimera.”
“Sh-she went down in 1862.”
Kennedy’s gaze narrowed. The year was wrong, a detail he’d already given her correctly several times. He was screwing with her on purpose now.
Fed up, Kennedy made an unhappy buzzing noise in the back of her throat. “Wrong. Thanks for playing. Fred, tell the man about his lovely parting gifts.”
Asher’s only reaction to her obnoxious behavior was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “A hurricane brought her down in 1864, close to the end of the war.”
So he did know the correct answer. “Where did she sail from?”
“Timbuktu.”
This time, Kennedy grabbed one of the pillows piled behind her and aimed it right for his head. The infuriating man didn’t even bother to duck. He simply snagged it out of the air and tossed it onto the floor at his feet.
“Keep it up, cupcake, and you won’t have any place to lay your h-head tonight.”
“Like I’m getting any sleep. At this rate we’ll both be up all night.”
He groaned, a pained expression crossing his face. “You’re k-killing me, K-Kennedy.”
Throwing the pages down onto the bed beside her, she raked him with a sharp gaze. “What do you want from me, Asher? I’m trying to help you here.”
“What do I want? I’ve been fighting the urge to tip you back on that bed and rip every stitch of clothing off your body since we walked into this room. What I want is you.”
Kennedy sucked in a harsh breath, her entire body suffusing with a combustible heat that burned from the inside out. As if she’d been dormant, just waiting for some word or sign from him to ignite.
“You want to see me naked? Fine. For every question you get right, I lose an item of clothing.”
Interest sharpened his gaze. He tipped his head sideways, considering her for several seconds. “What if I get one wrong?”
“I put something back on.”
A deep, dark sound vibrated through Asher’s chest. His gaze went white-hot. “I’m going to hell,” he breathed out.
11
LAUGHTER BUBBLED UP inside of Kennedy, an unexpected sensation mixing with the fire running through her veins. “Because you want me? I don’t think so.”
“Because I damn well know better, but when you’re close it doesn’t seem to matter. You get under my skin.”
“Nice to know I’m not the only one affected.”
A gush of laughter flowed past his lips. “Hardly.”
Slipping up onto her knees, Kennedy pulled the stack of papers back in front of her. “Business before pleasure.”
She was really going to do this, play a bastardized version of strip poker with Asher Reynolds, her naked body as the prize. Shaking her head, she pushed the last of her qualms away.
“Tell me about my family’s history with the Chimera.”
“You and Jackson were raised on stories of the ship. Not what the historians believed, but the real story. Your ancestor was one of the owners, aboard when she sank. He’d traveled to several plantations in the Caribbean gathering supplies, support and a secret stash of gold for the Confederacy. Jackson spent years tracing the route the Chimera took, looking for any obscure historical mention of her, the crew or her cargo.”
“Good boy.” Kennedy grinned at him. Reaching for the hem of her shirt, she dragged it up her torso. The feel of her own fingers against her skin was soft and subtle. The zing came from knowing that Asher’s eyes traced the same path, devouring each inch of skin she revealed.
She could feel him watching her with that preternatural intensity that stirred her blood.
Yanking the cotton off over her head, she tossed it on to the floor between them. It landed with a muted swish, but it felt as if the sound echoed through the tiny room.
She wanted him to touch her, but he didn’t move. He swallowed, the muscles in his thick throat flexing.
“Keep going,” she finally said, her voice low and breathy.
“After Loralei’s father stole Jackson’s research.”
Kennedy shook her head, making a low, disapproving sound in the back of her throat.
“No, we don’t want to mention anything about Loralei’s father stealing from Trident. Lancaster is our partner now. That’s history between us and not for public consumption.”
She made a move to climb off the bed and retrieve the shirt she’d just thrown down, so that she could put it back on, but Asher beat her to it.
His boot-clad foot landed on top of it, pinning the cotton to the floor.
“No.”
“That was the agreement.”
“I’m changing it.”
Reaching for the bottom of his own T-shirt, Asher whipped it off in less than half a second.
“I screw up, I take something off instead.”
“That’s hardly an incentive for you to keep getting things right.”
Bending at the waist, Asher scooped her shirt up and tucked it beneath his right hip. “Cupcake, the only way you’re getting this back right now is by taking it from me. Do you really think you can do that?”
Kennedy narrowed her gaze. He was taller than her, had probably a hundred pounds of muscle on her and years of elite tactical training. She wasn’t stupid. Although, there were ways to bring a man like him to his knees. And she wasn’t above fighting dirty if she needed to.
But, as she stared at the ripple of his abs and the rounded curve of his defined pecs, she had to wonder. Did she really want to argue with him?
Not particularly.
“Fine.”
“So, what’s the official statement on Lancaster Diving?”
“We partnered together, Jackson consulting with a friend in the industry.”
“Lancaster was no friend,” Asher groused.
“I’m aware of that, and so is everyone else who matters. This is to protect Trident.”
“No, this is to protect Loralei.”
“Considering she and Jackson are on the verge of getting married, that’s pretty much the same thing, don’t you think?”
She watched as a muscle in Asher’s jaw ticked for a few minutes before he finally took a deep breath.
“Fine. The asshole is dead, and Loralei is a good woman,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“But it bothers me that we’re hiding the truth. That doesn’t sit well.”
“Noted.”
For some reason, Kennedy was surprised at his stance. As a member of Special Forces, surely he’d had to lie before. There was a part of her that wanted to ask the question, but was afraid to. Not only because she wasn’t certain she wanted the answer, but also because they didn’t have the luxury of time to get off track.
“I won’t lie, but I won’t bring up something we want to keep quiet, either. That’s the best I can give you.”
It wasn’t ideal, but she’d take it. And stay close during the interview tomorrow, so she could intervene if it looked like things were going to get sticky.
“Fair enough.”
“Loralei researched the historical hurricane records, matching the track of the storm with the projected path of the Chimera. After discovering that a group of plantation owners had purchased the Chimera quietly, she began to cross-reference their locations with the storm, coming up with a small island no one had thought to check. That information, paired with what Jackson had, led them both to the Chimera’s resting place.”
Asher paused, cocked an eyebrow and waited.
Shifting back onto her rear, Kennedy cursed the tropical location and the decided lack of wardrobe pieces the climate required. Why couldn’t she have been wearing socks and several layers?
Unbuttoning her shorts, she shimmied out of them, letting them dangle from the end of her foot before dropping them onto the floor.
Asher snatched them up as well, tossing them onto the desk behind him.
“Spread your thighs for me, angel.”
The muscles in her legs clenched, an instinctive search for relief from the pressure building at her core. She thought about refusing, but realized she didn’t want to.
She wanted him to look at her. To see just how turned on she was. For him.
Scooting back to the center of the bed, Kennedy rose onto her knees. Spreading them wide, she sank until the curve of her ass touched her heels.
Gratification came in the form of Asher’s rushed breath.
“You weren’t lying. I can see your panties are damp from here.” His hot gaze dragged up her body, zeroing in on her face. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now? It’s taking everything I have to sit here.”