"You could take him." I watch Rumlow tape his hands, his movements taking on a reflexive nature, as if he was born to wield a roll of boxing tape.
It takes me a few seconds to remember that he's referring to Michael. Strange, how yesterday I'd been so ready to defend myself against the man. Today, I'm not so sure he's my enemy.
I'm not sure who my enemy is anymore. If I even have one.
I glance at Rumlow. He hasn't given me any reason to distrust him. Maybe Michael's just being paranoid. He has a natural tendency to be a control freak, so it could just be that he's distrustful of these alpha male type guys.
Mr. Navy Seal. I smile despite myself.
"I'll have to be able to, if it comes down to it." I finally reply to his statement, watching him toss the roll callously onto a nearby bench.
"Probably won't. He doesn't exactly exude 'tough guy'. " He crosses the space between us in two strides, and I hold my hands up for his examination.
"About time." He smirks, crossing his arms, "You research types are supposed to be quick learners, but you're surprisingly slow on the uptake."
I pivot myself and manage to plant a solid kick to the side of his thigh. He deflects part of the blow with his quick reflexes, but stumbles to the ground, an expression of pain on his face. I have only a moment to feel triumphant about my victory before he's knocked my leg out from under me, sending me crashing on top of him.
Then I'm in a headlock, one of his legs wrapped around mine to prevent me from kicking free.
"Are insults what it takes to get you to fight me seriously?" He chuckles as I struggle in his tightening grip.
I head-butt him, temporarily loosening his arms long enough for me to free myself.
As he's wincing in pain on the ground, I mockingly plant my foot on his chest in victory, my fingers pointed at his face like a gun.
"Try me." I reply.
"Don't have to." He raises his hands in mock surrender, "You've passed the test."
I remove my foot from his chest, allowing him to sit up. I offer him a hand up but instead, he pulls me down onto his lap. My heart is racing at a million miles a minute and I find myself panicking internally.
"What are you doing—"
"Relieving some of this damn tension." He begins removing the boxing tape from my hands, and I don't think he's referring to that kind of tension.
Though I was certainly aware of his powerful thighs during our spars, it's a different story to be sitting between them.
It's scandalous, and we both know it.
"Someone might enter and get the wrong idea." I reply hesitantly, but I make no effort to move.
"Your co-worker, you mean? Is he an ex?" His eyes briefly meet mine, and I notice the playful smirk on his lips.
"No, I told you he's just a co-worker." I bite my own lips, tearing my gaze away from his face to avoid the temptation of leaning in close, of letting his rough stubble graze my face, of running my hand through his jet black hair.
"And what am I?" I hear the smile in his words as he finishes removing the last of the tape from my hands.
Too close, that's what you are.
"That depends." I reply, hardly daring to breathe.
"On what?" His tone changes. His words are softer, taking on a seductive tone.
"On various things." I touch the cuts on his cheek from his earlier fight with the subject, letting my fingers linger for a few seconds on his skin.
"Are those things under my control?" He grips my hand, holding my knuckles to his lips. They're soft, and I already know where this is headed.
Sorry, Michael. I'm hopelessly attracted to this man.
"That depends." I reply, unable to help the smile that tugs at my lips.
He briefly raises a questioning eyebrow.
And then, he kisses me.