She knew her face must be maroon from her exertions. Sweat dripped from the end of her nose. No need to think she looked the least bit attractive anymore. Yet she didn’t think he was seeing any of that.
His eyes were now hooded. The gold in the hazel glittered beneath his lashes, amped up by their exertions. That golden gaze dipped to follow the track of a sweat droplet skiing down her sternum into the cleft between her breasts. Her nipples were stiff. Now that she thought about it, she could feel them achingly tight and sensitive from the abrasion of the shirt she wore, his shirt. And he was looking his fill. She could feel the heat. His chest was rising and falling a little fast. His smell became a bit sharper. Every female instinct within her came alert. It wasn’t fear of the predator this time. It was the instinct of sighting a potential mate.
But he didn’t make a move. Instead he let his lids droop, his gorgeous mouth going downright grim as he worked the fastener of her last glove. When he had slipped them both off he got up and walked into her bedroom. He came back with two towels and tossed her one.
He disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with a glass of water. “Drink it slow.”
He moved back a few steps, leaned his shoulders against a wall, and crossed his arms. She drank half the glass before he spoke again. “You should keep up your boxing practice. With the proper coaching, you could do some damage. Of course you’ll have to keep getting your wardrobe from the house of McGarren.” His gaze slid from her face down to the soaking-wet shirt plastered to her body. “What you do for an undershirt is just short of illegal, Ms. Summers.”
His slow seductive grin made her toes curl inside her shoes. The heat in her middle slid lower down. He was flirting. This was crazy. She wasn’t ready. “I need to go to bed.”
“Yes.” He said the word slowly, keeping eye contact as he moved away from the wall toward her. “I suppose you do.”
She stood up, the action bringing them closer together. “Thank you.”
The humor had left his face, replaced by an intensity she recognized. “Anytime.”
She looked away, unwilling to encourage what she was beginning to think she wanted very much. “I mean it. You let me be angry. You didn’t try to deflect it, or tell me the anger was useless, or unnecessary and unproductive.”
“I figured you could work that out for yourself.”
“I—did.” She stopped to listen to her heart, which beat hard but steadily. “The fear’s gone.”
She was feeling brave and fearless. And he was suddenly much closer and much more available than she’d expected. It was there in his expression. His breath was coming a little fast between his lips. Lips more lush than should be legal on a man. He was sweating, too. After all, he’d been on the receiving end of her very physical workout. But sweat didn’t drip off his nose or run in rivulets down his back. No, he—glowed.
She hadn’t allowed herself to feel the rush of gratitude that had overtaken her when Kye appeared over Stokes’s shoulder. Now it came back with heightened awareness that he had probably saved her life. Even in her extreme distress, she’d registered that he’d looked a whole lot like her own personal avenging angel. Protector. Rescuer. The Good Guy.
She raised a hand to his chest, palm spreading over the heated surface of his shirt. For just a moment she longed to lean her head against that solid wall. As if she could hide her face in the warmth of the man smelling faintly of sweat, and desire. And be safe.
Lust, pure and simple as a struck match, caught fire inside her chest. The instinct to survive was still raw and bright and needy inside her. He could meet that need and soothe it. She saw that as his eyes widened and darkened looking into hers.
She heard a raw sound coming from her throat, his name. And then her arms were sliding around his neck, and she was reaching with her mouth for his. She found it.
Warm firm lips met hers. But he didn’t touch. This time he hesitated, but she didn’t. She licked at the seam of his closed mouth until she heard him moan. His arms came up. One found her shoulders, the other sliding down her back until a hand gripped her ass and pulled her close. She was tall enough to fit perfectly against him. His arousal pressed thick and hard against her sex.
The hot caress of his tongue sent shivers of pleasure through her. Little fireworks went off behind her dropped lids. She strained against him, not wanting to break the kiss to tell him what she wanted.
“Yard?” He’d lifted his head. When she opened her eyes he was staring at her. “Damn. This really isn’t the best idea. After tonight.” The want was plain in his taut features, but something else shown through in his gaze. Regret. “Rain check?”
She stared at him. Trying to hear sense over the thunder of her heart. After tonight?
She must have said the words aloud. He nodded and backed off, the moment avoided. “Good night, Yard.”
She glanced at his retreating back. He picked up his backpack.
“There’s no need for you to leave. The beds upstairs are made up. You can sleep here.”