"What are you thinking?" Chris leaned back, trying to put distance between them.
Chris froze as Dax didn't just step closer, no, that would have been normal, civilized, lawful, even.
Dax lifted one long, powerful leg and planted his knee on the chair between Chris's thighs like he was claiming territory on a battlefield.
A battlefield that Chris absolutely occupied.
"What are you… Dax. Dax." His voice pitched embarrassingly high. "Why is your knee… Why are you… What strategic purpose does this serve?!"
Dax's answer was a slow, molten smile that said, 'You know exactly what purpose it serves.'
His scent curled around Chris's spine like a warm hand.
"I'm thinking," Dax murmured, lowering his torso until Chris had no choice but to tilt backward, "that five hours is too long."
"TOO LONG?" Chris squeaked, bracing himself against the chair arms like Dax was gravity itself.
Dax nodded with the serenity of a man explaining weather patterns.
