“But what I’m really,reallygood at is knowin’ my own mind,” he continued. “Idowant you, darlin’. More than I’ve ever wanted another woman. But it’s more than that. I’ve fallen in love with you. With your smart mouth and quick wit. With how you get quiet and introspective when you’re out fishin’. With how you always mean what you say and say what you mean and—”
“Wolf—” she tried to interrupt, but he talked right over her.
“I’m not braggin’ or anything, but I’ve known my fair share of women. Have even been downright infatuated with a few of ’em. And yet, I’ve never felt a connection like the one I feel with you.”
“Wolf—” she tried again, but a strong gust of wind whistled by outside and rattled the fronds of the saw palmetto against the side of the house, distracting her.
The storm was nearly upon them. Its tumultuous arrival matched the emotions roiling inside her.
“Wolf”—this time she managed to finish her thought—“what happens six weeks from now or six months from now when we’ve scratched our itch and we’re no longer running on that heady, tingly feeling? Are you willing to settle for comfort in place of adventure? For convenience in place of excitement? I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll realize you’re not the settling down type and—”
“No,” he interrupted. “What I’mnot,is thesettlingtype.”
“Meaning what?”
“Can’t you guess?” For the span of a dozen heartbeats, he stared at her.Hard.But she couldn’t read what was in his eyes.
She gave a helpless shake of her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He glanced at the drops of rain pattering against the windowpane. “I have to go to the airport to get somethin’ from Romeo.” His voice was quiet but edged in steel. “We’ll finish this when I come back.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again when he pushed past her and quietly disappeared down the hall.
She became the human equivalent of a party balloon poked by a pin. All the air leaked out of her until she was limp and lifeless.
Sitting heavily on the side of the bathtub, she immediately regretted the move since it jarred her injury. Strange, she hadn’t remembered shehada bullet wound while Wolf was kissing her. All she’d felt was pleasure.
All-encompassing, all-consuming pleasure.
The kind of pleasure she’d only ever read about in books or seen in the movies. The kind of pleasure that stole her breath and gave it back to her in a way that made her feel like her lungs had never truly been filled before. The kind of pleasure that had her body making decisions without the benefit of her brain.
The kind of pleasure that was very,verydangerous indeed.
“Stand up, darlin’.” Wolf reappeared in the doorway, scissors in hand. “Let me cut your shirt away so you can have that bath while I’m gone.”
Her mind was mush. Complete and total pulp. Which meant following instructions was easier than coming up with solutions of her own.
“Turn around.” He twirled one finger. “I reckon if I cut it straight up the back, you can slide out of it like a hospital gown. Hopefully, that’ll keep you from havin’ to move your arm too much.”
When she did as he asked, he pulled out the hem of her borrowed scrubs shirt. The first snip of the scissors had a wheezing breath escaping her lungs.
She’d never thought about a man slicing her out of her clothes before. Peeling them off? Sure. Ripping them off? Plenty of times. But never had scissors played a part in her fantasies.
I need to work on improving my imagination, she decided. There was something incredibly erotic—and maybe a little dangerous—about standing perfectly still while he slowly cut a line up her back.
He must’ve thought so too. She heard his breath catch. Thought for sure, she felt him pause for a bit, as if he needed to collect himself before continuing.
With every snip, the bathroom walls closed in. With every new inch of skin that was exposed, it became harder to breathe. And by the time he’d cut his way up to her mid-back, she barely refrained from groaning.
It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to turn and claim his lips. Those incredibly talented lips that were far too pretty to be wasted on a man. That mouth that was all the things dreams were made of.
Oh, who are you kidding, Chrissy? Every part of him is pretty.
From the top of his inky-black head to the soles of his perfect feet, he was a spectacular example of masculine beauty. Even his scars didn’t detract from the overall aesthetic, but instead enhanced it. Added character. Gravity. Spoke of a life that’d been hard-lived and hard-won.
“Almost there,” he said as he cut the thicker material of the collar and spread the two halves of the now-destroyed shirt wide across her back.
The air from the vent was cool against her naked flesh. Which made the warmth of his breath feel that much hotter when he slowly exhaled. Her shoulder blades hitched together, and she was reminded of what he’d said.
