Texas Hold 'Em (Smokin' ACES) - By Kay David Page 0,37
home, but what really bothered her at that particular moment was the look in his eyes. The sex they’d shared had always been incredible. Even when things weren’t smooth between them, he could still make her cry out in bed. But when he looked at her like this, it really stole her breath. Kisses she could handle; his concern was something else entirely. She repeated her words to give herself enough time to recover.
“It’s nothing. I only called to inform you. Like I said, you didn’t have to come over here.”
“Maybe so, but it’s obviously a threat.”
“If I got rattled every time someone got pissed at me, I wouldn’t last too long in this job.”
“Has anything like this happened before? Someone in your house?”
“No,” she admitted reluctantly.
His expression went grim. “Does your mother have a key?”
“Why would she have a key? Even more important, why would she do something like this?”
“Do you know Dickie Barclay?”
His switch in topics threw her off guard, and she answered automatically. “Yes, unfortunately, I do. He’s an idiot, but I’d know if he’d been in here. I’d smell him. What’s that got to do with my mother—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Dickie showed Jessie Delacourt a video last night at the Ice House.” Santos described what he’d seen.
She made a scoffing sound even as her mouth went dry. “And you’re thinking one of the women on that clip might be my mother, right? She might have been Queen Elizabeth, too. You’re grasping at straws, Santos.” A knock at her front door interrupted her. “That’s got to be King. You need to leave. If I don’t let him in, he’ll think something’s wrong.”
She pivoted but Santos put a hand on her arm and stopped her, his voice suddenly deeper. “I can come back and spend the night, Rose. Whoever did this could return.”
The danger Santos posed to her heart far outweighed what any criminal could possibly do. She’d feel less safe with him there. But still she was tempted. In the end, though, she shook her head. “That’s not necessary. You don’t need to stay here.”
He waited another beat, the gaze of his dark eyes sending a course of heat down her back. “Are you sure?” he asked.
She met his look with one of her own. “I’m not sure of anything right now.”
He nodded as if he understood, then without any warning he cursed and pulled her hard against his chest. Then he kissed her. They both ignored the second knock against the front door.
The kiss they’d shared outside the barn was nothing compared to this. That one had been a suggestion; this one was a demand. His mouth came down over hers and insisted she return his desire, his hands unrelenting as they pressed her into the line of his body. Rose didn’t hold back because she couldn’t. Santos had taken over, and all she could do was whatever he commanded. His left hand dragged her even closer as his right hand came to her breast and cupped it, his thumb brushing over her nipple.
Holding her breath, Rose let the sensations flood her, the swift currents and hidden traps under the surface washing away any lingering concerns. His tongue sought hers, and the kiss deepened before he tore his lips from hers and buried his face into the crook of her neck. His lips began to move against her skin, and she realized then he was saying her name, over and over, a mantra of need.
The sound of his desire brought her to her senses. Untwisting her hands from his hair, she slowly pulled away.
His eyes were even darker than they’d been before. “What are you doing?”
“I’m stopping us,” she answered. “This…this isn’t why you’re here. It isn’t what we need to be thinking about.”
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he said harshly. “For too damn long.”
Santos no longer looked like a man who cared what she wanted, but he stepped away from her as he spoke. Her back door closed with a whisper when he left a moment later.
…
The next morning Rose headed out early with yesterday’s episode fresh in her mind. She was rattled and edgy, as much from the kiss they’d shared as from the candle she’d found. Santos’s talk about the video was troubling, as well.
It wouldn’t be unlike Gloria to leave an obtuse message like the candle if she was near. But if she was, why not just contact her directly? If Gloria and Ortega were involved and had somehow