“Just take small sips.”
The glow from the kitchen barely penetrated the living room, and he willed the dark quiet to calm her, calm him. The adrenaline was wearing off too fast, leaving him wired and overwhelmed by how close he’d come to losing her. The memory of that ambulance… It was a miracle she was alive, unharmed.
“It’s okay,” he crooned in a whisper against her hair, as much to himself as to her. “Everything is okay now.”
He tried to block out the memory of staring down into the darkness of the ambulance, not knowing if he would find her, and if he did whether she’d be alive or dead. He just focused on the way she folded into the curve of his body, fitting neatly against him as if she belonged there.
“N-no m-more,” she said weakly, pushing the mug away after only a few sips.
He didn’t try to convince her otherwise, even though her tremors were growing more violent rather than less. He set the broth down on the coffee table and ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arms. He tried to warm her, wanted to soothe her fears away.
“Shh. Everything is okay now,” he whispered over and over.
But it wasn’t. Tremors became spasms. Her teeth chattered.
“F-freezing.”
Had he made the wrong choice by bringing her here? For an instant of blinding uncertainty, Scott froze with his arms around her. Should he call 9-1-1 or take her to the emergency room?
No. Alex would never have let Riley leave the hospital if she wasn’t okay. Until the chief called, she was safest here. If the DEA was responsible for her abduction—and who else would be so skilled as to make use of emergency equipment for a kidnapping?—Scott had no way of knowing how ambitious they would be. If that CD was the reason Mike had been killed, then Scott couldn’t take any chances with Riley’s safety.
But once this was done, he would kill Jason Kenney himself.
Riley’s spasms and chattering teeth gave way to dry, heaving breaths, and Scott shifted out from under her, reached down and lifted her into his arms.
“It’s okay,” he crooned, over and over, willing her to believe him, willing her to calm in his arms.
The need to do something finally spurred him to his feet and he carried her into the bathroom, cradled her against him as he shoved open the shower door so hard the glass rattled in its frame, and turned on the water one-handed. Soon clouds of steam billowed from the stall, and he shoved the comforter off her, kicked it away, along with his shoes.
“Close your eyes.” He stepped under the spray, and she buried her face against his chest.
Hot water pounded, quickly soaking their clothes, the fluid heat blasting through fabric and skin, a heat to sink bone deep.
Riley’s hair plastered against her head, the water turning natural curls into dark, unfamiliar waves that twined around her cheeks and neck and made her skin seem unnaturally pale. Her thick lashes formed dark crescents beneath her eyes, and she nestled closer against him as though they might actually fuse into one so she could share his warmth.
And she trembled.
Scott had no clue how long they stood there, him crooning nonsense, his hands never ceasing their travels over the smooth curves of her back, her arms, anywhere he could reach while still holding her tight. He couldn’t stop touching her.
He’d never known such powerful relief, a sensation that robbed him of reason, of speech, of everything but the knowledge that she was alive, here in his arms, and for this moment, this forbidden moment, he could touch her. He could inhale the scent of her hair, caress the slick wetness of her neck. Pretend that he had every right to feel the way he did.
Scott was so caught up in his own thoughts he didn’t notice her trembling had eased until it stopped completely. He was so caught up in the feel of her body that he didn’t notice when her hands had joined his, traveling over his wet clothes, trailing along his shoulders and down his back, mirroring his strokes.
He only came fully to his senses when she started to move, pushing out of his arms and stretching her legs underneath her. She slid down the length of his body, ready to stand on her own. And he steadied her during the descent when their sodden clothes dragged together, her shirt pulling up to reveal flashes of her smooth stomach, the strap of her bra. He stood transfixed by the long, sensuous unfolding of sleek curves and firm muscles. But Scott knew exactly when Riley came back to herself.
She tilted her face up and kissed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE EVENTS OF THE NIGHT FADED. Her racing thoughts. The anxiety. The fear. All gone beneath the steady pounding of the hot water.
Riley was tired, so tired, but the heat and the feel of Scott’s strong arms around her anchored her to the moment. A moment where she was safe and standing in the only place in the world she wanted to be.
The feeling didn’t make sense. Not if she started picking it apart with her head, but Riley knew her body. And just as she’d been certain she hadn’t sustained any hidden injuries from the night’s events, she knew that being in Scott’s arms was exactly where she should be.
She couldn’t think beyond that. Wouldn’t. She had only this second. Didn’t want reason. Didn’t want any more fear or worry. She wanted to feel the way she felt right now.
Good.
She never dreamed her body would ever awaken, would ever feel alive this way again. But the water warmed her until the heat became so much more, a fire that pulsed thickly through her veins, until all she was aware of was the strength of Scott’s arms around her, the way he held her close.
She might come up with a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t feel this way. Scott might refuse to discuss the awareness that had flared between them so unexpectedly. But she recognized this feeling on a purely instinctive level.
This wasn’t fear. This wasn’t weakness. This wasn’t grief.
This was want.
She wouldn’t resist. Not now. Not after tonight. Not after the twists and turns her life had taken the past few years. She’d learned one valuable lesson at least, and she wouldn’t waste a second because she might not get another.
So she stretched languidly against him, forced him to let her down, greedy to feel him against her, to discover the hard contours of his body, to test this awareness and learn if he was as aware of her as she of him.
She hoped. The intensity surprised her.
Her feet touched the floor of the shower stall, but his arms still held her steady, so she rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.
He tasted wet with the water that sluiced over them, so unfamiliar yet so male. And for a stunning instant, Riley simply stood there, waiting for him to react. Her breath trapped in her lungs. Her heartbeats throbbed hard between them.
Then he sucked in a sharp breath that stole hers. And his mouth came against hers with such unmistakable need that a memory of the hurricane chamber at the Florida science museum flashed in her head, of hundred-mile-an-hour winds whipping around with fierce intensity. The way Scott seemed to explode around her as if his need had been so tightly contained one touch was all it took to shatter his control.
Suddenly his hands were everywhere, one banding around her waist, the other spearing into her wet hair, and he brought her up against him with a force that dragged another gasp from her, a crazy exhalation that burst against his lips. His body was a solid wall of muscle, wholly unfamiliar with its long contours. Tall, lean strength. So much contained power.
He kissed her with a possession that surprised her. Their tongues tangled as their lips glided silkily beneath the steady stream of water. Until Riley could taste this kiss in the pit of her stomach, in the wild heat pooling even lower, in the way her legs grew molten and heavy beneath her.
She could only sink against him for support, suddenly unsteady, but she found no respite because he leaned back to brace himself against the wall, an action that crushed her breasts to his chest. Her stomach cradled the hardness of his growing desire. Her thighs stretched out against
him with an intimacy that was intensely physical.
Riley couldn’t think, only feel, knew a need to touch him that drowned out everything else. Her breath fluttered in her throat, and with a forbidden thrill as she slid her hands between them, coaxed her fingers beneath the dripping hem of his shirt and brought her hands in contact with his bare skin.
His stomach contracted at her touch, a hard expanse of muscle that invited exploration. She skimmed her hands upward, felt the crisp ruffling of hair beneath her palms, the hollows of definition, the supple skin that barely masked the throbbing heartbeat and told Riley he felt her touch the way she felt his. She dragged her palms slowly over his nipples, shivered when his low moan burst against her lips.
Suddenly his hands were on her face, dragging her mouth more deeply into their kiss, and the force of his need sparked her own until she gasped, the ache inside suddenly overwhelming.
Slipping her arms around his waist, she let her hands glide over his butt, tightly encased in wet jeans. She pressed him close, rocking her hips to ease the need within.
Scott followed her lead because his hands began a traveling descent, raking down her throat with firm strokes, over her shoulders and down her back. They mirrored each other stroke for stroke, drank in the long-forgotten feel of arousal.
Scott sighed against her lips, and then his hands were everywhere. Reaching for the hem of her shirt and tugging it upward. She raised her arms into the air to assist, and he broke their kiss to drag her sodden shirt over her head. It hit the floor with a wet thud. Her bra followed. She worked the buttons on his shirt until she could shove the whole wet mess over his shoulders and down his arms, baring the expanse of his chest.
Then, as if they’d been magnetized, they came together, their bodies drawing close, the tips of her breasts pressed against his warm, wet skin.
Now it was her turn to gasp. His hands contained such unleashed strength as he caressed her back, her waist, her ribs. He stroked the undersides of her breasts and she trembled, such a blatant admission of her desire.
She wanted him. He wanted her. That much she knew.
There were no questions, no indecision.
Only too many clothes.
Popping the button at her waist, she worked her dress slacks over her hips. They were so weighted with water they slipped down her legs with little effort. Scott’s jeans proved much more of a challenge, and Riley sank to her knees to peel away the stubborn fabric, freeing his maleness with an intimate touch that made her heart beat so hard it actually hurt.
His groan carried over the sound of the pulsing water, and she glanced up, startled, aware of this desire. She wasn’t the only one. His eyes fluttered shut, as if he was too overwhelmed, too caught up to resist.
She didn’t want him to. She wanted him to give way to this pleasure. Didn’t want to think, didn’t want to be reminded that anything but the two of them existed right now, and the unexpected surprise of what burned between them.
She couldn’t resist trailing her mouth down the length of his thigh, entertaining herself with this slow task, smiling when a shiver rocked his entire body.
Impatiently, he kicked away the jeans, then dragged her up against him. His breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as their slick skin came together in a fluid glide. Riley could feel him everywhere, feel his whipcord arms bracing her closer, ever closer. His eager hands exploring her with greedy abandon. The heavy length of his need branding her with its heat.
She just melted against him, so caught up in the moment, in the feel of him. What else could she do in the face of such unexpected, powerful need? Only give in. She had no fight left. Not tonight.
Pressing kisses along his shoulder, she tasted the pulse at the hollow of this throat. Her body was alive with desire, awakened to a need she hadn’t known existed. She’d forgotten that she was a living, breathing woman.
A woman who wanted this man.
Riley wasn’t the only one who wanted. With an abruptness that startled her, Scott broke away. She heard the faucet snap shut. The water stopped its flow and the shower door shot open. He stepped through, dripping everywhere and not seeming to care. He didn’t grab towels. He didn’t say a word. He simply reached for her hand to lead her from the stall, then lifted her into his arms.
The cool air assaulted her. Burying her face against his neck, Riley tried to contain the trembling that had begun again, a trembling so different from the physical reaction that had rocked her earlier.
This time she felt only eager.
There was no question. No need for discussion. There was no past between them. No worries about the future. There was only right here and right now. The soft bed beneath her. And then Scott’s warm, wet body surrounding her, so hard and heavy in all the right places.
SCOTT STARED INTO his dark bedroom. Not morning yet, which bought him a little more time. Stolen time. Time to imprint in his memory the way Riley felt in his arms. Her sleek curves pressed against him. Her thigh casually tossed over his. Her cheek pressed to his shoulder. Her arm draped across his waist. The shiny hair that had dried into wild disarray.
He smiled into the darkness. Her hair was everywhere. Draped over the pillow. Trapped behind her shoulder. Tucked around his neck. Even in his face. Whenever she moved those spun silk curls would go into his mouth and up his nose. He kept trying to blow them away so he wouldn’t sneeze and wake her.
He didn’t want to do anything to bring an end to this night any faster than it was already coming.
He had no justification for his actions. No excuse that would wash. He’d been so affected by his fear for her that when she’d kissed him, he’d flat-out lost it.
How could he resist Riley?
He couldn’t. He’d lost control, plain and simple.
Scott’s eyes squeezed shut against the emotion, a brutal combination of relief and awe and gratitude and an unavoidable truth. A truth he wanted to block out for a little longer.
The night would only complicate things between them. Try though he might, he’d been projecting his feelings for Riley ever since he’d realized how he felt about her. It was only natural she’d react. His need for her was so powerful.
And that’s where the guilt was coming from. It wasn’t about Mike, which surprised Scott. It was all about Riley. She deserved someone so much better. A man from a normal family, not someone who would only open the door to a world she’d been lucky enough to avoid.
She shifted again, this time nestling her face into the crook of his shoulder. After she was comfortable again, she exhaled a sigh that warmed his skin. Scott held her. Just held her. Tried to burn the feel of her silky curves into his brain. The way she stretched out against him, all sleek, toned skin. The arm that draped across his stomach, hand outstretched, fingers curled ever so slightly. The slim foot she rested on his ankle. The annoying little curls that kept tickling his nose.
The darkness began to fade beyond the blinds. Morning had finally come. Scott pressed his lips to her head, smiled when she sighed. Then he untangled himself from her and slid from the bed. He had a job to do.
To protect the woman he loved.
Scott made coffee and started with the phone calls. He needed to get a grip on himself, to get his head back in the real world before tackling the shower with its memories of Riley. Trembling from shock. Trembling from desire.
She was still sleeping when he finally emerged and dressed quietly, hoping not to disturb her, and he’d have left her that way, except this time when his cell rang the call was for her.
“Riley.” He knelt beside the bed, not trusting himself near her, not when he still ached to touch her. “Kids on the phone.”
Though she’d been dead asleep, she instantly blinked to awareness. Scott placed the phone in her hand, unable to take his eyes off her.
She was gorgeous with a drowsy-soft expression, mouth still full and pink from his kisses, bare shoulders peeping through the wild mass of her hair, which had dried into a shape not
unlike that of the pillow.
He put some distance between them, half sitting against the dresser while she talked with each kid in turn, gave reminders about their plans for the day.
And loved them so completely.
It was in everything she said, the look on her face, the tone of her voice. Such a loving woman, so willing and passionate in his arms.
And she finally sat up, looking like a fantasy that had parked square in the middle of his bed. She wrapped the comforter around her, and it drooped in places that gave him choice views of bare curves and tan skin.
He left the room and poured coffee, which he brought to her. Lifting her gaze to his, eyes sparkling, she smiled a smile of such welcome that his heart gave a single hard beat.
She took a sip, then another, looking grateful. Then she was kissing the kids goodbye and flipping the phone shut.
“Good morning,” she said huskily.
“Good morning.” He folded his arms over his chest and filled her in on the news. He didn’t give her a chance to address the night, interjected reality between them as a distraction—for her and for him. “Charlie’s home. Concussed but completely fine. So no worries there.”
“You’ve been working this morning?”
He nodded.
“Do you have any idea who those men were last night?”
Given his way, Scott would have let Riley believe the pharmaceutical story she’d been working on had invited the trouble. He didn’t want to reopen old wounds about Mike based on Jason Kenney’s word. At least until after the bust when Scott and the chief could break open Mike’s case again and go through everything until they figured out exactly what had gone on.
But Riley was a reporter. And a good one at that. She wanted answers. As much as he wanted to spare her the uncertainties, he wouldn’t outright lie to her.
“It’s a long story, Riley. The chief and I don’t have all the pieces in place, and a lot of what we do have I can’t tell you yet. Not until after tonight.”
Her Husband’s Partner Page 19
