by Amy Garvey
Finally, here’s a peek at HelenKay Dimon’s
YOUR MOUTH DRIVES ME CRAZY
coming next month from Brava!
T he world spun beneath Annie until her feet landed on the cold tile floor of the shower stall. Strong arms banded around her waist, holding her in place.
Every cell in her body snapped to life. The lethargy weighing her down disappeared with the screech of the shower curtain rings against the rod. A rush of water echoed in her ears as steam filled the room.
“Here we go,” the stranger said to the room as if the nut chatted with unconscious people all the time.
He balanced her body against his. Rough denim scratched against her sensitive skin from the front. Lukewarm water splashed over her bare body from the back, making her skin tingle and burn.
A gasp caught in her throat as her shoulders stiffened under the spray. A scream rumbled right behind the gasp, but she managed to swallow that, too.
“This should help.” He continued his one-sided conversation in a deep, hypnotizing voice.
He seemed mighty pleased with himself. And since he had stepped right under the water with her, a bit ballsy for her taste.
“This will feel better in a second,” he said to the quiet room.
He wasn’t wrong.
Firm hands caressed her skull, replacing the frigid ocean with bathwater. He rinsed and massaged and rinsed again. The sweep of his hands wiped away the last of her confusion. With that task done, his palms turned to her arms, brushing up and down, igniting every nerve ending in their path.
His chest rubbed against her bare breasts until heat replaced her chill. With thighs smashed against his legs, the full-body rubdown sparked life into body parts that had been on a deep-freeze hold for more than a year.
“Better?”
She didn’t answer him. Wasn’t even sure she could speak if she wanted to.
“Open your eyes and say something.”
The husky command broke her out of her mental wanderings and sent a shot of anxiety skating down her spine. This was the part of the program where she ran and hid…and then ran some more.
Naked. Alone. Strange man. Yeah, a very bad combination.
“I know you’re awake.” He sounded pretty damn amused by the idea.
The jig was up. Okay, fine, she got his point.
Not knowing if her rescuer counted as a friend or foe, she played the scene with the utmost care. Only a complete madman would attack a vulnerable woman who didn’t know her own name. If her stranger fell into that category, she’d scream and make a mad dash into the kitchen for the nearest sharp knife. The nearest sharp anything.
She groaned in pain that was only half false.
“Your eyes are still closed,” he said.
Yeah, pal, no kidding.
“You aren’t fooling me.”
Well she could certainly try.
His hands continued to massage her sore flesh with just the right amount of pressure to bring her blood sizzling back to life. If he kept this up, her eyes wouldn’t open. She’d be asleep.
She couldn’t remember the last time she slept through the night. Actually, she could. It had been fifteen months, fifteen months of searching. The path led to Kauai. To the yacht. To flying over the side and into the water. To being in this shower.
“We can stand here all night for all I care,” he said.
Nothing that extreme. Maybe ten more minutes.
He chuckled. “Doesn’t bother me.”
Lucky for her she found an accommodating potential serial killer.
“Because I’m the one with clothes on,” he pointed out.
Her eyelids flew open.
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Copyright © 2007 by Amy Garvey
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