Her eyes snapped open as she processed his words.
He wanted her.
She pushed his hands away, pushed at his chest to roll him off her.
Tristan would not roll easily. “Don’t. What’s wrong? You feel for me. You’re wet for me.”
“I’d be wet for anyone right now.” She shoved him away again, but Tristan wouldn’t be shoved. He would not let go. He held her tightly, stroking her back with his fingers as though calming some wild thing, his cheek resting against hers.
He smelled too nice. He arms were too warm, too inviting. He was the warm bed in the morning that kept you trapped when work was waiting.
And this bed was far too confusing.
“Stop it,” she said, stiff in his arms. “Let go of me now, or so help me, I will shove my Colt straight up your ass.”
The mattress dipped. Tristan stalked around the room, sneaking peeks of her body while she clasped her bra and buttoned her blouse and trousers. “I don’t understand. I know you feel for me. Even Dixon noticed,” he said as she fastened the last button. “For a long time, I thought there was something going on between—”
“There’s nothing going on between Dixon and me. There never was.”
“I know. We had a discussion last night. It cleared up a lot of things.”
“A discussion gave you that black eye?”
“There were words involved, too.” He stopped and backed toward the counter. “Am I not good enough for you? Just because I’m not one of those highborn assholes—”
“Tristan, look at me. I am one of those highborn assholes. I’m those people you hate so much, who you can’t shut up about hating every single day. You hate my mother, my sister, my brothers. You even hate Alex, regardless of whether or not she’s a slave now, and I think sometimes you hate me even though—”
“I don’t hate you. I just want…”
Lila frowned as soon as Tristan trailed off. One minute the man was wrapping her up with a bow, ready for the militia to carry away in his place, the next he was making claims on her. She squeezed her hands into fists until her voice calmed. “What? What do you want, Tristan? Because right now, I don’t understand you.”
“You do understand me, or you wouldn’t have kissed me back like that. You wouldn’t have gotten so…” Tristan snatched up the top to his scrubs and slipped it over his head.
“Wouldn’t have gotten so what, Tristan? I’m highborn. Sex doesn’t mean the same thing to us that it does to you. I’m trying to be responsible.”
A sliver of guilt overcame her earlier anger.
She’d taken it too far. He was a slave—an escaped slave, but still a slave.
She was a highborn. No matter how annoyed she’d been, she was the one who was supposed to fence in her temper, to remain moral and calm and temperate.
Besides, sleeping with him was what he’d wanted for a long time. She had no intention of giving that to him now, not after what he’d pulled.
“Don’t try and be responsible on my account.”
“Do you even remember that I kissed Dixon too? Judging from the bruise on your eye, you didn’t take it well. That’s why I can’t go any further with you. None of this is personal for me. It’s just sex.”
“If that kiss wasn’t personal then you need to look up the word personal.”
“Did it look personal with Dixon?”
Tristan wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“I haven’t gotten any in a while. That’s all. It’s something that I will rectify soon, before it gets me into any more trouble.”
“I’m trouble? I’m standing right here, Lila. How much sooner can you get? We both want it. I don’t understand why you’re holding back.”
“Yes, I want sex, Tristan. I’m starved. But you’re definitely not asking for sex. You’re asking for more than that.”