He grinned as Kimberly spoke from the back door, her voice irritated and still shadowed with arousal. He wondered if she knew how that husky little sound made him crazy to f**k her.
He turned, glancing back as she stepped outside, watching him warily.
“Sorry, some days my control is not what I would want it to be,” he grunted with an edge of self-mockery. “So much for my Trojan status, huh?”
“The Trojans.” She shook her head at the title that had been given to the eight men that Stanton’s wife had identified as being part of the exclusive men’s club. “I imagine you’re more like them than either of us wants to admit to right now. But it doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t indestructible. You shouldn’t be out in the open like this.”
“My neck’s not itching. I’m not worried,” he told her, wondering at the pleasure that just the sight of her brought him.
He wanted to see her clothed in nothing but moonlight, reaching for him, her body shimmering with moisture, her eyes glazed with need. His hunger for just that rocked him to the very core of his being.
“Oh Lord, another man whose neck itches,” she grumped. “I’ll tell you the same thing I tell my boss—they make salves for that sort of thing.”
A surprised chuckle escaped his lips. She was daring and sharp as hell. He loved that about her. He had missed her blistering little retorts, her teasing laughter. He hadn’t realized how much until now.
She moved closer to him, the scent of her, clean and fresh, with just a hint of peaches enveloped him, making him hunger to taste her again. He wanted to spread her legs wide and lick up all the sweet cream her body had to give. To gorge himself on her passion, her cries and her sweet release.
“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms, ignoring her slight, indrawn breath at the intimacy of the act.
It was one of her taboos, he knew. No cuddling, no foreplay. Those rules he could and would break.
He was surprised though, when after a second’s stiffness, she relaxed against him, her hands settling cautiously at his waist as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. His hands smoothed down her back, fingers working at the muscles there, a smile tipping his lips as they slowly eased.
“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I don’t want to make this harder for either of us than it already is.”
He smiled against her hair. If he got any harder he would burst right out of his jeans.
“Just let me hold you,” he finally whispered deeply, responding to the need to feel her against him, the ache to shelter her like a knife through his soul. “Just for a minute, Kimber. Let me hold you.”
The night wrapped around them, quiet, soothing. The sound of the frogs in the pasture pond, the hoot of a faraway owl, a whippoorwill in a tree in the backyard. The night enveloped them, hid their fears, their hungers, and for those few precious minutes, brought a measure of peace to them both.
Chapter Seven
He didn’t come to her bed that night as she expected. Kimberly lay awake, long into the night, listening for him, her body sensitized, ready, aching for him. She watched the connecting door until her eyes finally closed in exhaustion and sleep claimed her as restless dreams haunted her.
The next morning she sat bleary-eyed and irritable over a cup of coffee, listening to Matthews and Adams as they discussed the reports from the previous day. No sign of intruders, not a whisper of danger. Other than a deer munching the grass in the backyard, there was nothing to report.
“I’ll cover the inside today,” Matthews said thoughtfully. “Adams will take the outside. I gather you’re stuck with Mr. Dark and Gloomy Raddington,” he snickered at her.
Kimberly lifted her brow mockingly. “Dark and Gloomy?” she asked him curiously.
“Yeah, he came down earlier for breakfast looking like a thundercloud before retreating to his office. Barely said two words to us.”
At least he spoke to them.
She lifted her shoulder as though unconcerned. “Maybe he just doesn’t like company.”
Tim Adams snorted. “Maybe we’re the wrong company. From what I saw last night, he liked you pretty well.”
She looked over at him slowly, careful to keep her expression blank.
“Excuse me?” she said carefully, her body tensing at the implied insult in his voice.
He stared back at her, his gaze condemning.
“I saw you on the porch with him last night,” he sneered. “Getting a little close and personal weren’t you?”
“Getting a little nosy aren’t you?” she snapped back.