An Offer He Cant Refuse - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,60

she'd been holding as well. Then she took another gulp of air, trapped it in her lungs, and slid her fingers underneath his pillow.

Her hand found the smooth inner skin of his forearm first.

She kept herself still, not breathing until she was sure she hadn't disturbed him. He didn't move, so she dared to again, inching her fingertips along the line of his arm to his wrist and then to his cupped palm. Watching his face from little more than a nose away, she spread her fingers wide, certain to encounter the edge of the bag.

And only found cool sheet and warm calluses.

She made another surreptitious search, trying to move starfish-slow.

His hand clamped down on hers.

Tea gasped and blinked, but he didn't seem to be any more awake than before. He'd merely latched onto her hand the way he'd latched onto the Loanshark book in the living room.

Great. Just great.

The position was awkward, with her arm trapped beneath the pillow and her butt in the air. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she slowly straightened her legs and then twisted her body so that she was lying on her side on the mattress, mimicking Johnny's pose. His hand would relax in a minute, she thought. Then she'd slip free of him, find her book, and hightail it out of here.

Inhaling a long, calming breath, she raised her lashes.

And stared straight into Johnny's very blue eyes.

Johnny gazed at Tea's exotic face, his heart slamming against his chest, his mouth dry. He was in his bed. Naked. Just awakened from another nightmare. What the hell had happened now?

He remembered finding her outside the house. Remembered jumping into the pool to sluice off his sweat after working with the landscapers. Then he'd been in the living room with Tea, looking down at her sketches and his glance had snagged on the damn time on her watch. 1:09:09.

He'd heard popping sounds and been flung headlong into another of those living, seething memories. Shit. Shit shit shit.

Once again, the sounds, the sights, the smells of the flashback and the nightmare that had followed swirled around the edges of his consciousness, swirled around the very edges of the bed, trying to suck him under once again. His body shuddered.

Oh, shit.

Tea scooted nearer, wrapping her free arm around him.

He dragged her even closer and held on. "This is real," he whispered to himself against her hair. "This is real."

But the Beastie Boys were still playing somewhere in his head and a gun was lifting as his father turned off the ignition and stepped out of his car. Johnny shuddered again, trying to resist the dark lure of the memories.

"I'm here," Tea whispered, her warm breath against his face.

But he couldn't believe it without tasting her. He had to taste her to be sure that they were both alive. Rolling, he pressed her flat against the mattress. Then he put his mouth on hers.

Her lips were hot, the wet inside of them even hotter. Johnny thrust his tongue into the heat.

Yes. God, yes.

He thrust inside her mouth again and she moaned, deep in her throat. At the sound, he pushed deeper, his fingers flexing on her shoulders. This was what he needed. Her kiss, her taste, the feel of her that would keep the darkness at bay.

His lips slid off hers and slipped over her chin to the fragrant skin of her neck. Shifting for a better angle, his elbow encountered one of the pillows. With a swat of his hand, he batted it off the side of the bed. Then he pulled the other from beneath her head and tossed it away too. Tangling her hair in his fist, he tugged, arching her neck so that he could lick down the side of her throat. Her pulse beat, fast and alive, against his tongue.

She gasped as he scraped his teeth against the spot.

Reveling in her, he rubbed his cheek along her satin skin, back up to her mouth to kiss her again. Desperate for more, he slanted his head for a better fit and twined his tongue with hers. The sheet seemed to do the same to his legs, so he kicked it free, then shoved the covers off the bed with his foot.

With an elbow on each side of Tea's head, he cradled her face in his hands and let his mouth grind against hers. Her tongue played games with his, jacking up his need, jacking up the crackling heat between them. She squirmed, the