She felt his finger at her chin and he gently tilted her face up to look into his. A shiver worked its way through her and she felt herself gravitate toward him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”
He was right, dammit! He shouldn’t have! Any sort of gentleman would have kept his friggin’ mouth shut. But was he a gentleman? No. Of course, not. He was a bad ass former Ranger with wounded keen grey eyes, a fresh scar and a limp that begged more questions than she knew he’d ever answer. He was hard and annoying and arrogant. And funny and sexy and smart. He was... He was...
...going to kiss her, Sapphira realized a nanosecond before that beautiful mouth found hers. The very one she’d been dreaming about, fantasizing over.
He tasted like dill pickle chips, ginger ale and something dark and thrillingly wicked. Like sin, she realized as her body literally melted against his. Her knees grew weak and her legs wobbled, forcing her even closer to him. Heat moved through her limbs and settled hotly in her sex, triggering a deep throb in her womb. She sighed, savoring the feel of him against her body. Her soft to his hard, strong hands framing her face, sliding into her hair and kneading her scalp.
Heaven.
A hum of masculine pleasure reverberated over her tongue and she ate it greedily, could feel the fire she’d been trying to contain blazing out of control throughout her body. And God, how she loved the way he felt. She’d touched men before, of course, but this one...
This one felt like warmed marble, living granite. Girl candy, Sapphira thought dimly, as she felt his muscles bunch and bulge beneath her greedy palms. He was hot and hard--all of him--and she could feel him, like fever, in every cell in her body. She wrapped her arms around his waist, then slid her hands over his back. Taut muscle, the vulnerable indentation of his spine, wide shoulders. He was like a drug and she was already hopelessly addicted.
It was madness, total insanity and yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. Couldn’t get enough of him. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, slid it along his in an intimate dance that mimicked another more intimate act. His lips were firm, but full and moving over hers with an intensity that told her she wasn’t the only one experiencing an inconvenient attraction--he wanted her, too.
The mere idea made her panties wet and she ached to rub against him, to put that hard ridge of arousal currently nudging her belly deep into the very heart of her. Instead, she scrambled closer and deepened the kiss. His big body vibrated with a need she recognized and answered with a moan of sheer madness. She felt his hands slide down her back, over her rump and he squeezed, setting off a firework of heat in her sex. Warmth rushed to her core, coating her folds. Her nipples tingled and pearled and every press of his body against hers was a sheer delight of sensation.
Huck moaned into her mouth once more, suckled her tongue. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
Now he wanted to talk? Mr. Brooding and Silent? Sapphira ignored him and pushed her hands back into his hair. She loved the way he felt beneath her palms, that delicate place behind his ear. So soft, she thought dimly. He nudged her belly again. And so hard.
She whimpered, began to tug the shirt from his waist band. She wanted to feel his skin, taste it, sample every inch of him. His smell, that wonderfully masculine fragrance, swirled around her senses. He slid his big hand up along her side, making a slow but determined journey toward her breast. She squirmed, trying to put the aching orb into his palm faster.
Almost... Almost...
Huck suddenly stilled and when he drew back, he looked every bit as flushed and feverish as she felt. Those gorgeous grey eyes had turned a deep gunmetal shade.
“Phone,” he said, his voice oddly rusty. But he was quickly all business again. He swore and removed the cell from the holder at his waist. “Finn,” he answered. His gaze suddenly cleared, sharpened and zeroed in on hers with unerring accuracy. “Another letter? When did it arrive? Right. I’ll be right there.”
She smiled sadly, irritated on too many levels to properly count. One, another letter ensured that she’d continue to be an at-home prisoner and two--she inwardly sighed--there was nothing like a little stalker to ruin a perfectly good kiss...which undoubtedly would have turned into perfectly perfect sex.
CHAPTER 7
Using a pair of plastic gloves to keep from damaging any potential evidence, Huck carefully inspected the letter which lay on the foyer table, where the afternoon mail had been deposited. Stravos wasn’t there, but had been informed of the letter’s presence and had given instructions to turn it over to Huck.
After comparing it to the other two letters, he decided this was definitely from the same person. Same style. Local postmark. One simple sentence--Sapphira’s in harm’s way!--and cut with the pinking sheers. An interesting choice, but readily available at any local sewing center or craft store. He’d need to check it for prints, but instinctively knew he wouldn’t find any. He went over the envelope once more, then shook it out to make sure that he hadn’t missed anything.
Beside him, Sapphira swore. “I wish to hell I understood this,” she said, pushing her hair away from her face. It was the first time she’d shown any real emotion regarding the threat and he had a sneaking suspicion that if she hadn’t been so rattled over their recent kiss, she wouldn’t have slipped-up. As it was, now he only wondered why she’d been hiding her concern to start with. Had she finally realized that this was more than an inconvenience? Or was it something different?
“Does it mean anything to you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, expelling an exasperated breath. Her green eyes snapped with irritation. “It means that I’m stuck here--“ The with you was implied but unspoken. “--for the foreseeable future, unable to go about my normal business. Dammit, I have things to do.” Her back was ramrod straight and her lush body--the one he’d been holding only moments ago--literally vibrated with impotent rage, pent-up anger and frustration.
That was an awful lot of emotion for thwarted shopping, Huck thought, studying her thoughtfully. He paused, a little alarm bell going off. Something didn’t add up here. Granted he’d only spent a little over twenty-four hours with her, but between her seemingly relieved-to-be-at-home morning--despite what she’d said, he didn’t buy it--and this sudden outburst of emotion right now, he knew her better than that.
How did he know? Years of training, keen observation and an overall ability to judge character. For reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, she was determined to make him--and everyone else at Ranger Security--think that the only thing bothering her about these letters was the cramp it put in her style. Maybe so...but what style exactly?
Because he sure as hell no longer believed it was all about the shopping.
Nobody her age got that torn up over the missed pedicure or trip to the mall.
Seemingly aware that she’d shown too much, Sapphira made a visible effort to appear less concerned. “So...what now?”
Huck shrugged. “More of the same, I’m afraid. I’ll send the letter over to Ranger Security and let them take a look at it, see if maybe they find something on here that I’m missing.”
Her rigid shoulders sagged with a weary sigh. “This could go on indefinitely, couldn’t it?”
“It could,” he conceded, inclining his head. “But I don’t think it will. The odds are whoever is doing this will slip up and when they do, we’ll catch them. Until then, the only thing that we can do--and will do,” he added pointedly, “is keep you safe.”
She adjusted a single bloom from the arrangement on the table. “Here’s the thing,” she said. She looked up and those green eyes tangled with his. “I don’t feel like I’m in danger. I should be afraid and, call me stupid, but...I’m not.”
That was probably the most honest thing the woman had said to him since he’d met her, Huck thought, glad that they seemed to be making a bit of headway. “Why aren’t you afraid?”
“Because these letters aren’t really threatening.” She gestured to the photocopies. �
��They don’t imply bodily injury or death or anything else for that matter. They’re more like warnings. The only thing that makes them a threat is what they don’t say. It’s what’s left unsaid--the vagueness of them--that can’t be ignored.” Her lips twisted. “That’s why my father hired you. Because ignoring them would have implied that he didn’t care about me.”
From the resignedly bitter tone of her voice, it was obvious that she thought her father didn’t care about her, and frankly, after meeting the man, he wasn’t altogether certain that he didn’t agree. Was that why she’d resisted her security detail? Huck wondered. Because her father had only hired them to avoid the implication that he didn’t care about her? Out of obligation instead of genuine concern? It was possible, he supposed, but it still didn’t precisely fit.
His gaze slid over her once more, lingering over that lush mouth. In fact, at the moment, the only thing he could say that truly fit in this entire situation was her body against his.
Kissing her had been a monumental lapse in judgment, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say that he regretted it, because he didn’t. He probably should, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off of her, but...
Last night when he’d heard her softly moaning his name, the low hums of pleasure, the quickened breath and, ultimately the keening cry of release, it had taken every ounce of strength he possessed not to walk into her room and slide into bed with her. Instead, he’d stood outside her door, his body locked in an eternal hell of sexual misery, his dick hard and aching, loins ablaze, and had waited until he knew she was enjoying a dream-free sleep before going back into his own room.
At which point, he’d promptly taken matters into his own hands, so to speak. A poor substitute for sure, but all that had been at his disposable at the time.
In retrospect, humiliating her by telling her that he’d heard her during the dream probably hadn’t been the best choice, but the woman was so damned provoking he hadn’t been able to resist. Frankly, he didn’t think he’d ever met a female who had the power to annoy him quite the way Sapphira did. Drizzling sarcasm from that acid tongue, barbed comments designed to prick his irritation. She was a pro, he had to admit.
But she also wanted him.
And having her revert to the old routine after he’d rocked her dreams to the point of orgasm was just too much to take. He’d snapped, said damn the consequences, knowing full well that he’d just flushed his new career down the toilet. But he hadn’t been able to control himself. If she’d have kept that infernal mouth shut, he wouldn’t have had to take her down a peg with the I-heard-you comment, then he wouldn’t have felt like an ass when she’d become so wretchedly embarrassed, and then he wouldn’t have had to kiss her to make it all better.
In short, it was all her fault.
She’d brought his kiss upon herself and by God, if he ultimately snapped and seduced her, she’d have no one to blame but the person she saw in the mirror every morning.
Ridiculous logic, he knew, and yet accepting blame for any of it was out of the question because he simply couldn’t believe or admit that he’d done something so unforgivably stupid. First assignment for Ranger Security--his new job, the one that was going to help rebuild his busted life--and he’d flubbed it already by crossing the sexual line?
Had he lost his friggin’ mind?
Evidently so, because looking at her now, the taste of her still fresh on his lips, the feel of her lush womanly body melding against his, Huck could honestly say he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Because he’d never had a kiss literally rattle him to the soles of his feet.
Huck had stolen his first kiss in second grade, had made his first sexual conquest with an older girl in eighth and had never had a problem attracting the opposite sex. By high school he’d honed his skills and had charmed the pants off any girl he wanted--time permitting, of course, because by that point he’d been working full time--and had pretty much kept to that formula. If he wanted milk, he went to the grocery store. A steak? The local butcher. Sex? The nearest bar. It had always been that easy.
Because he’d been raised in a house with women who’d drilled respect into his marrow, Huck never took advantage, never made any promises and never walked away leaving a woman feeling used. That wasn’t his style.
In short, he wasn’t inexperienced and yet nothing could have prepared him for the utter circuit-blowing meltdown he’d encountered when his mouth had touched Sapphira’s. It was almost as if his chemical make-up had undergone a change, an over-ride of some sort.
She was soft and womanly, had tasted like peach preserves and hot tea, and something else. Something indefinable and exclusively hers that had made him want to devour her, feed at her mouth until he got his fill--and instinctively knew he’d never get it--and then come back for more.
Until his cell had vibrated, the world had simply fallen away, existing only in that moment. Every sense had been heightened. The feel of her hair sliding over the back of his hands, the smooth and delicate feel of her neck beneath his hands, her plump breasts against his chest, her small hands sliding over his jaw.
Something about the sincerity in that gesture had made his throat tight and, because he’d mastered the art of self-preservation, he knew better than to wonder why.
Huck would like to think that he would have had the wherewithal to stop things from progressing beyond a kiss, but if it hadn’t been for the interruption he feared the two of them would be tangled up in her bed right now.
If they’d even made it to the bed, which seemed doubtful.
The mere idea made his dick stir in his jeans, instinctive straining toward her.
In a moment they would go back to her cottage--just the two of them--and thanks to his “house arrest” mandate, they’d be stuck there together--alone--for the rest of the evening and, because of this newest threat, for the immediate future.
Funny, Huck thought as the Irony Fairy sprinkled her Ha-Ha! dust all over him. He’d put Sapphira in lock down to preserve his own sanity and now he feared that very remedy would end up being what drove him insane.
* * *
“You’ve got to come over here,” Sapphira hissed into the phone, peering around the corner to make sure Huck was still in the living room. “Bring an overnight bag and plan on staying. Indefinitely.”
Cindy chuckled knowingly. “That bad, eh? What’s happened? Ooo! Has he kissed you?”
Sapphira gaped at the phone. What? Was she psychic? “Can you just come over here please?” she asked, purposely avoiding the questions--all of them.
“Sorry, can’t,” Cindy trilled cheerfully. “I’ve already got plans.”
“Record Dancing With the Stars, dammit. This is important.”
“So you’ve kissed him,” Cindy said, pleased. Sapphira could just imagine her friend’s sly smile. “And from the plaintive desperation I hear in your voice, it was good. So good that you need a buffer, in the form of me?” She heard her hand smack against the table. “Oh, this just gets better and better.”
“I don’t need a buffer,” Sapphira said, cowering from an imaginary bolt of lightening. “I need a friend. You’re my friend, dammit. You’re supposed to be here in my hour of need.”
She chuckled softly. “Oh, I expect Major Finn could take care of you in your hour of need.”
“Cindy.”
“Call Ella,” her friend suggested. “She’ll come over.”
“Ella’s at her book club meeting tonight.” Besides, she couldn’t ask her. Granted she’d always been able to tell the older woman most anything, but somehow asking Ella to give up the comfort of her own bed and spend the night to keep her from sleeping with Huck was a little too much. A trifle over the edge.
Meanwhile, dinner was over and there was nothing else to do. She’d tried reading a book. After going over the same passage a dozen times without retaining a single word, she’d given up. Watching TV? Ordinarily she enjoyed parking herself in front of the
television with a plate of cookies and a cold diet drink--because, you know, having a regular soda would just be overkill and, despite evidence to the contrary, she didn’t completely lack will power--but she suspected that Huck’s TV tastes and hers wouldn’t mesh.
Besides, how could she think about anything but that kiss--and the resulting heat it had wrought in her body--with him in the room?
She couldn’t.
Which was why she’d called Cindy and asked for her help. Sorry friend, Sapphira thought. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” she said. “The next time you have a crisis you’re on your own.”
Cindy’s laugh came over the line. “Now, see, there’s the difference between me and you. If I had a hot guy in my house and he’d kissed me, I wouldn’t think it was a crisis, and, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’d be the last person I’d call.”
Too true, Sapphira knew, smothering her own chuckle. Still, what Cindy would do wasn’t helping her. Cindy wasn’t a prisoner in her own house. Cindy wasn’t the one being threatened. Cindy wasn’t the one stuck here with a gorgeous man who made her thighs quake and her nipples tingle. Cindy wasn’t the one who had to keep from embarrassing herself and she certainly wasn’t the one who had to resist him.
No, that lucky person was her. And it bit.
Big time.
“Sapphira?” Huck called.
“Dammit,” she whispered. “I’ve got to go. He’s bellowing.”
“You make him sound like a caveman,” Cindy said, laughing softly.
“He is,” Sapphira said grimly. And it was no small part of the reason she found him so incredibly sexy. Who would have thought “caveman” would trip her trigger?
Struggling to pull the shredded threads of her composure around her, Sapphira disconnected the call and walked back into the living room. “Did you want something?”
Men Out of Uniform: 6 Book Omnibus Page 54
