A slow and dangerous smile appeared on her lips. She pushed off from the window and walked toward him with slow, deliberate steps. Her heels clicked against the marble floor like a ticking clock, bringing them closer to something inevitable.
When she reached the bed, Maksim's good hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down beside him with surprising strength for a guy who was hurt.
"Maksim—" she started, but he interrupted her.
"Sit."
She followed his command, settling on the edge of the bed, her body angled toward him. The scent of her fancy perfume filled his senses.
Selina's hand moved almost lazily, resting on his chest, fingers spread over the bandages under his silk pajama top. "You should be resting."
"I'll rest when I'm dead," he muttered.
Her fingers found the first button on his shirt. She unfastened it slowly and playfully, keeping her eyes locked on his. "That can be arranged."
