A Woman's Prerogative....
to change her mind, her dress, her hairstyle, her job - and most especially, her life.
Random comments by erotic romance author EVE JAMESON
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All text (especially-but not limited to-excerpts from stories) are written and under copyright by Eve Jameson.
I thought it would be fun to let you see the hero's initial reaction since you got a glimpse of Myrra's first impression of Brett at the end of Brooke's Sanctuary (and if you started at the beginning with Bethany's Rite, you've met Myrra and know quite a bit about her already).
“Are you going to untie me?” she asked.
“Depends. Are you going to attack me again?” Brett asked.
“Do I get my clothes back?”
Considering he’d found her unconscious on the side of a mountain with her clothes torn and burned and just five minutes ago she’d woken to find herself naked and tied to a bed in a room with a stranger, the woman showed remarkable composure.
Shaking his head, he smiled and retrieved a pair of wire cutters before returning to the bed. “There you go again. Answering a question with a question. I answered one of yours.” He went down on a knee beside her and slid one pointed side of the tool’s jaws under the plastic tie binding her wrist. Pausing, he said, “Your turn.”
Myrra frowned, didn’t answer right away. “I won’t attack you unless I deem it necessary. You caught me off guard the first time.”
“Jesus, woman, if that was your off guard reaction, I hate to think what might have happened if you’d been ready for me.”
With an icy confidence, she stared up at him. “You would have died.”
God damn, the woman turned him on. Not that he didn’t take her words seriously. He did. He was too seasoned of a soldier not to know the difference between reality and a good bluff. The woman was sure of her ability to kill him. And this was after she had fought with him once and lost. That kind of confidence didn’t come from holding the top spot on a video game, taking a couple of karate classes or even months of training. It was the accepted certainty that only came from repeated successful experience.
With unhurried efficiency, he cut free her wrists but instead of severing the final tie around her ankle, Brett rested his forearm on his knee, letting the wire cutters dangle loosely in his hand. “A couple things before I completely cut you loose.”
She waited without commenting, a thin line forming between her eyes as the only signal of her impatience.
“First, no more attacking the guy who rescued you. I’m in the middle of something here, but as soon as I’m done and weather permitting, you’ll be free to go.
“Second, there’s nowhere for you to go on your own. We’re miles from any town and though I respect your obvious ability to kick ass, there’s a lot of hungry wolves between this cabin and the closest road—if you can find it. Any questions?” She shook her head. “Good.”
He cut the final tie from around her ankle and immediately she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. His temperature rose as the sheet slid down to pool around her waist and across her hips, leaving her breasts bared to his gaze. Modesty didn’t seem to be one of her priorities while she checked her body, running her hands over her sides and legs, flexing different muscle groups and taking stock of her scrapes and bruises. Her nipples started to tighten as her breasts swayed in the cool air.
Brett raised his eyes from her chest to her face. Expecting anger or embarrassment at his open gawking, he was surprised at her imperious, simply questioning expression. Like she wasn’t sitting poker straight with a pair of magnificent breasts thrust out in front of her.
“Rule three,” he said, his voice coming out in a husky grumble. “Unless you want me in your bed, keep those covered up.”
The damn woman crossed her arms under her breasts, propping them up higher in clear challenge of his statement. “You took my clothes.”
Desire surged through him, goading him to take up the gauntlet she threw down. But it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Whether she chose to admit it or not, she was hurt. He had seen the cuts and bruises when he had checked her for injuries and removed her weapons.
With a rough curse, Brett stalked across the small space and grabbed a long-sleeved thermal crew, socks and a pair of black cargo pants from his bag. He dumped the pile of clothes on the bed next to her.
“For the record,” he said, regaining his train of thought as she pulled the shirt on over her head. “Your clothes were trashed. I had to cut them off of you to check and clean your injuries.”
Myrra ignored him and stood up to step into the pants. Long, toned legs and proof that she was a natural blonde assaulted his determination to be distant and objective until he knew who she was and what she was involved in. She bent over to straighten the end of a pant leg, granting him a great view of her ass. The woman was trying to kill him with lust. And he was starting to lean toward letting her.
Just a teaser I know, but I hope you enjoy it!
Just a teaser I know, but I hope you enjoy it!