Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,29
in his bed, either.
Her abdominal muscles clenched and heaviness pooled low in her belly. Had not making love been a mistake? They were fighting for their lives. If they didn’t escape, she’d never know the wonder of being in his arms, the joy of belonging to him.
No. She again squelched her worry. Negativity devoured precious resources. She needed energy, focus and every smidgen of creativity to help them escape.
Bailey gave herself a mental shake and put renewed effort into the banner. Forming each letter carefully and precisely, she recalled a recent Scrabble match. She’d concentrated on beating Con, not an easy task, and hadn’t realized what he was up to until well into the game. Until she’d really looked at what his tiles spelled. Passion. Desire. Arousal. Caress. Kiss.
When she’d glanced up, he’d arched a teasing brow. She’d lunged and kissed him soundly. They’d ended up locked in an embrace, rolling across the board and scattering tiles. How did he electrify her without uttering a sound? Without a touch? Like now.
Awareness hummed between them. His heat, his scent beckoned her. Her senses responded to every shift of his lithe body, every movement. Her tension escalated with his every quiet breath.
When the sign was nearly finished, she hesitated, the marker hovering over white cotton. “Con?”
“Yeah?” His husky reply had her stomach jumping again.
“Is it…? I’m…um…” Unable to meet his gaze, she swallowed again. “Is it normal to be sort of…turned on in the middle of a dangerous situation?”
Chuckling, he stretched, set down his marker, and then settled cross-legged on the floor. “Feeling a bit wired, are you?”
“Yes. Am I a pervert?”
He barked out a laugh. “No, sweetheart.” He tugged her into his lap. “Adrenaline sings through your veins, doesn’t it?”
“You can say that again.”
“Every sense sharpens to hypersensitive. Colors look brighter, objects more clearly focused.” He feathered his fingertips over her eyelids and she caught her breath.
“Every nerve ending quivers at the slightest touch.” He cupped her face in his hands. His soft, moist lips grazed her jawline and she shivered.
“Your hearing grows keener,” he murmured into her ear, his warm, moist breath prickling goose bumps along her skin.
“Smells become dizzyingly acute.” His mouth a whisper from hers, he held her gaze. His scent—aroused male, tangy soap and cinnamon—wove an enticing spell, and she breathed him in.
Passion flared in his eyes. “Flavors flood your palate, are more vivid, more delectable.”
She turned her body into his, and his lips touched hers. Rising on her knees, she tangled her fingers in his hair. Her lips parted and his tongue drove deep, kissing her hard. His taste jolted her system. Intense, hot, spicy. If she lived to be a thousand, she would never get enough of him.
He’d kissed her before with tender seduction. Undisguised hunger. Even nerve-jangling desire. But nothing had ever sent her pulse hurtling into a gallop, made her limbs tremble like this rapid-fire assault on her senses. The air punched out of her lungs. Her brain puddled.
Pounding heartbeat against pounding heartbeat, the fiery, shocking clash of lips, tongues, teeth flashed through her body. The heady, erotic explosion ignited her blood. Emotions blitzed her heart and lodged in her soul. Need. Love.
Possession.
Con was hers, and she would never give him up.
Someone moaned, deep and throaty. She didn’t know if it was him or her.
She jerked back, breaking the kiss. “This is a bad idea.”
“Probably, yeah.” Panting, he rested his forehead against hers. He blinked, and then shook his head. “What was I talking about? Oh. Adrenaline. Razor-sharp awareness is a survival mechanism. You need an edge in a crisis.”
Stunned moments passed before her jellied brain could process thought. She inhaled much-needed oxygen. Stress must have sent her around the bend. She was living her worst nightmare. An up-close-and-personal look at the reason she’d broken off with him. Getting physical would only worsen the untenable situation. How could she still want him so much when their basic life philosophies were in total conflict? “That doesn’t explain the outrageous desire.”
He smiled. “Sure it does, when you factor in the primal instinct to mate in the face of death. To create life and preserve the species. A biological imperative hardwired into our genes since caveman days. One hundred percent normal, darlin’.”
She eased backward, putting distance between them. A moment ago, she would have followed the kiss anywhere it led. Now, she was questioning her sanity. “Biological imperative or not, I wouldn’t have felt…um…wired if I were trapped with Aidan, or even gorgeous, wild-man Hunter.”
His smile