"Shhh!"
Suddenly he shifted again, his back straightening, his broad shoulders entirely still. And then she heard it, too.
Someone moving...prowling about the living room. He started to rise,then paused as they both heard the creak of a footstep on the bottom step.
Abruptly but quietly he moved, crossing his arms and grabbing the bottom of his turtleneck to hurriedly struggle out of it. His chest, broad, taperingto a drum hard abdomen, rippling with taut muscle, gleamed bronze in the moonlight.
"Get your sweater off!" he hissed at her, rolling onto his side and ripping the covers from his half of the bed.
"I will not!"
"You will too--and fast!" he whispered, rolling her indignant form beside his so that he could tug at the other half of the bedding and pull it back up over the two of them."Damn it, woman!" His voice was as insubstantial as the air, but she heard the angry, warning timbre. "No one will believe we're sleeping soundly after a torrid session of lovemaking if you're in bed with your clothes on! This is your game you've drawn me into, sweetheart, not mine, but now you'll damn well play by my rules!"
She hesitated, but his hands, long-fingered, broad-backed, powerful, were upon her, tugging at what was left of the sweater.
"Stop!" she whispered, and quickly shed the garment herself, then started to ease down under the covers, her heart thumping madly.
"The bra, too!" he snapped. "What's the matter with you? Haven't you ever made love?"
She was shaking with outrage and humiliation, but she sensed that he knew what he was doing. Still, her fingers trembled too badly to release the hook. He touched her back, sending ripples that chilled and then burned all along the length of her spine. The hood gave in to his practiced flick of the thumb, and she clutched at the front of the lacy garment then shoved it beneath the covers before he could.
It didn't help her much. She almost cried out when she felt his arm come around her, his hand comfortably upon her ribs, his fingers splayed so that they teased the curve beneath her breast. He pulled her close until the supple length of her spine was pressed against the heat of his chest, his long legs curled intimately about her. She could hear the whisper of his breath against her neck, against the lobe of her ear...
To an observer, they might easily have just made love. They might have been sleeping, comfortably, intimately, as lovers did...
But she knew he was far from asleep.Far from comfortably at ease. She felt the vitality, the heat, exuding from him. She knew that his ears were keenly attuned to the slightestsound, that his entire being was acutely aware, that he could spring like a panther at a split second's notice. Even as he lay still, she felt the ripple of perfectly toned muscle, the vibrant, primal male power that was his essence...
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
And she was frightened. Frightened of the danger she had brought; frightened of the footsteps that kept coming, slowly... so slowly and carefully...up the stairway.
And beyond that fear was something else.Something that reached inside of her. Despite it all, she was achingly aware of him. Of the fingers that brushed her bare breasts; of the hot male flesh pressed so tightly to her own. She felt vulnerable, and yet she felt protected. To feel his touch, to let him in, would be to become completely possessed on the most elemental of levels. He was a man who would take a woman body and soul. She would be completely his. And in return he would give her something as old as time, as staunch and firm as the mountains. His shielding strength; his sword against the world...
If he wanted her.
She was afraid of him.Had been from the beginning. Had sensed that if she gave in to the slightest weakness--
The footsteps were coming closer. His arm moved, drawing her even more tightly to him, fingers inadvertently teasing higher over her breast. Sensation rippled through her like lightning, mingling and joining with the rapid-fire gusts of terror.."Keep your eyes closed!"
How had he known they were open to the darkness? His were,she was certain. Yet heavy-lidded, so no one would see that piercing gleam of night gold.
The footsteps halted at the open door. She caught her breath, paralyzed with the terror of knowing that she was being watched--and not even able to watch back....
Creak... A telltale floorboard was giving. This intruder, now satisfied with the whereabouts of the house's occupants, turned away again, starting back down the stairs.
The man beside her was up like a flash, tearing toward the door. Ready now to attack, with surprise on his side. He started down the stairs. "What the bloody hell are you doing in my house?"
An explosion of gunfire, ripping through the darkness in an instant of blood red and sun yellow, was his only answer.
He ducked and heard the bullet whiz by his ear, then sink into the wood of the doorframe.