Archon glanced around, looking at anything other than the woman who was peeking around Lyon’s shoulder. His gaze landed on the cuffs abandoned on the narrow bunk and he grinned. “Pretty and persuadable, it seems.”
“No. Just not familiar with mag-cuffs.”
Lyon turned to Samara, swept a quick eye over her appearance and then sighed. She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly loved. With brisk efficient movements, he zipped her suit up as far as he could to conceal her cleavage. He didn’t want Eoin or Archon drooling over her or he’d have to break some bones.
“Put your hair back up,” he ordered her in a soft tone. Her eyes were wide and dark with apprehension and the tension that hummed through her body was wary now. Not a problem, he’d soon sort that out in his quarters tonight.
As qui
