Intimate Danger
Page 33
“Here?”
“Here.”
“And you want to stay here because…”
“My daughter asked me to. I promised her I’d be here when she woke up.”
“You can do that by going to your motel and coming back early in the morning,” she said, trying on some logic that something in her hoped he’d ignore.
“True. But that would mean leaving you.” His gaze drifted over her face. A face she knew was drawn and tired. A face that warmed under his scrutiny. “I don’t intend to leave, Camryn.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. Stayed there. “And I don’t think you want me to.” He lowered his head, looked at her across his wineglass. “Do you?”
With that two-word question, Camryn’s kitchen shrank in size, its oxygen depleted by half, and its perimeter blurred. All that remained was a man, a woman, and a razor-sharp awareness, a high-voltage sensual jolt that caught Camryn wildly off guard. She hadn’t planned on this, hadn’t seen it coming—hadn’t seen Dan Lambert coming—over six feet of man and muscle, who turned into mush when he looked at the little girl who called him Daddy, yet somehow turned into a potent, seductive male when he looked at her. A male who left everything to the imagination.
“I repeat, do you want me to go, Camryn?”
Her breathing, uncertain under his steady gaze, leveled off. She told herself not to forget he had an agenda, like Paul Grantman…like Adam. She told herself she was a fool for feeling anything, sensual or otherwise, for a man who’d come here solely to take his “daughter” from her. All these rattling emotions were aftershocks from the evening’s events, nothing more. Perhaps he was as opportunistic as Adam and saw her weariness as weakness, a chance to shorten that straight line he was so keen on. She told herself all of that, looked into his quietly waiting eyes, and said, “No. I think you should stay.” She swallowed, rose from the table, and picked up her plate and glass. She gave him another glance when she added, “After tonight, Kylie needs all the reassurance we can give her.”
“Is there a but at the end of that sentence?” He stayed seated, following her with his eyes as she walked to the dishwasher.
When she’d put her dishes away, she rested her hip against the counter. Her gaze, when it again met his, was level. “Yes, and what follows that ‘but’ is this—your staying here doesn’t mean I want you messing with my head, or my hormones.”
He stood, and wineglass in hand, walked toward her. When he was solidly in front of her, he reached around her and set his glass on the counter. He was so close the scent of his clean skin, the lingering hint of his aftershave, musk and cedar, drifted up her nose. All of it man-scent, strong and primal. Even though hemmed in by his size and strength, she had no desire to cut and run.
He trailed the back of his hand along her cheek and followed its path with a reflective, focused gaze, finally smoothing her hair gently behind her ear. “You were right, you know, about my ulterior motives.” His eyes met hers, dark and intense, faintly sorrowful. “I’d do anything to keep my daughter. And I did consider the idea that seducing you might be the way to do that.” His lips curved briefly into a smile, but it left his face as quickly as it had come. “I thought it would be less time-consuming, a way to avoid a messy and complicated legal battle, and that Paul Grantman wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of us.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, caressed her throat with his thumb. The gesture both heated and idle. “But now…”
When he didn’t go on, Camryn waited, then raised a brow. “Now?”
“Now all I want to do is mess with those hormones you mentioned—without a base motive in sight.” He leaned toward her and kissed her, a lingering kiss that touched her lips like a shadow, an inquisitive kiss that slammed those hormones she was so worried about into overdrive. “Well, maybe a little base,” he whispered over her lips.
And finally here’s Karen Kelley’s CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE SEXY KIND.
Coming next month from Brava!
“Would you like something to eat?”
Eat? Mala had two food capsules prior to leaving her planet, which was enough nutrition for one rotation, but she was curious about the food on Earth. Her grandmother had mentioned it was almost as good as sex. She just couldn’t imagine that.
“Yes, food would be nice.”
“Why don’t you sit on the sofa and rest while I throw us something together.” Mason picked up a black object. “Here’s the remote. I have a satellite dish so you should be able to find something to entertain you while I rustle us up some food.”
She nodded and took the remote, then watched him leave the room and go into another. The remote felt warm in her hand. A transferal of body heat? Tingles spread up and down her arm. The light above her head flickered.
She glanced up. Now that was odd. But then, she was on Earth.
Her attention returned to the remote.
Very primitive. The history books on her planet had spoken about remote controls in the old days. You pointed it at the object it was programmed to work with so you wouldn’t have to leave your seat.
She pointed it toward the door and pushed the power button. The door didn’t open. She tried different objects around the room without success. Finally, she pointed toward a black box.
The screen immediately became a picture. Of course, television. She made herself comfortable on the lounging sofa and began clicking different channels. Everything interested her, but what she found most fascinating was a channel called Sensual Heat.
She tossed the remote to a small table and curled her feet under her, hugging the sofa pillow, her gaze glued to the screen. A naked man walked across the set, his tanned butt clenching and unclenching with every step he took. When he faced her, the man’s erection stood tall, hypnotizing her. It was so large she couldn’t take her gaze off it.
A naked woman appeared behind him. She slipped her arms around him, her hands splayed over his chest. Slowly, she began to move her hands over his body, inching them downward, ever closer.
Mala held her breath.
“I want you,” the woman whispered. “I want to take you into my mouth, my tongue swirling around your hard cock.”
The man groaned.
Mala leaned forward, biting her bottom lip as the man’s hands snaked behind him and grabbed the woman’s butt. In one swift movement, he turned around. “Damn, you make me hard with just your words.”
“And I love when you talk dirty to me.”
“So, you want me to tell you what I want to do to your body?”
The woman nodded.
He grinned, then began talking again. “I want to squeeze your breasts and rub my thumbs over your hard nipples.” His actions followed his words. “You like that?”
“Yes!” She flung her head back, arching toward the man.
Mala leaned forward, her mouth dry, her body tingling with excitement. Yes! She wanted this, too!
“Do you like French bread, or white bread?” Mason asked, walking into the room.
She dragged her gaze from the television. Bred. That was what humans called copulating. Getting bred. Her nipples ached. “Yes, can we breed now?” She stood and began slipping her clothes off.
“No! That’s not what I meant.” He hurried forward and grabbed her dress as it slipped off one shoulder, quickly putting it back in place. Damn, what did Doc give her? This was one hell of a side effect.
“You don’t want to copulate?” Her forehead wrinkled, causing her to wince and raise her hand to the bump on her head. “Do you find that I’m not to your liking?”
“Yes, I like you.”
“But you do not wish to…” She bit her bottom lip as if searching for the right words. “To have sex?”
His hand rested lightly on her shoulder as he met her gaze. “Of course I’d like to…uh…” He marveled at how soft the fabric felt. His fingers brushed her skin, thinking it felt just as soft. What would she taste like? His gaze moved to her lips. Soft…full lips. Kissable.
He
jerked his hand away from her shoulder. Anyone watching would think he’d been burned…and maybe he had because he certainly felt hot.
He cleared his throat, his gaze not able to meet those innocent, sensuous turquoise eyes. He felt like such a heel. He’d invited her to his home and all he could think about was having hot sex.
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Copyright © 2007 by Amy J. Fetzer
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