Zhara shrugged and stared out the window, refusing to meet his eyes. She was about to lie to him, and she didn’t want to see his face when she did.
“I like men who know how to handle themselves in a fight. I like men who aren’t afraid to break the rules if the occasion calls for it. I like men who like to take risks. I suppose I do have a type. I suppose I do like the bad boy. The one who is the hardest to love, the one who is most likely to leave me.”
John came up behind her and stood close enough that she could feel the waves of heat radiating from his body. She knew that if she wanted it all she had to do was rock backward a half an inch and she could be wrapped in his arms. She felt his breath on the back of her neck and closed her eyes. The temptation was there. It would be so easy to give into it.
His question was soft but his words hit her heart hard. “And what about me? Am I your type?”
She forced a laugh. Better to hurt him a little now than to watch him bleed for her later. “You? No. You’re much too safe. Much too ordinary. Much too easy to tame. I don’t think you could handle me. I’d crush your spirit and leave you broken.”
It was a partial truth. She didn’t think he could handle her. Not the real her. She would never let him close enough to find out. He mattered too much.
His voice was soft, barely a whisper, with just a hint of amusement in it. “Oh, really? Am I? Do you think I’m easy to tame? Do you think you know me so well?”
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