He slowed down as snow blew across the road. “The speed you must have used to crash the car, jump out, and shoot? That’s impressive. You’re a fine agent, and not only because of your profiling skills.”
Well, if that didn’t instantly refocus her adrenaline, nothing ever would. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” she murmured. She’d never forget the sight of him jumping out of his running truck and scouting the area, his body hard and tough, his gun out and ready. Sure, he would’ve done the same for anybody in trouble, but there had been an edge to his voice when he’d called her name. An edge just for her. So she took the chance. “I don’t want to go home alone.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.
Curiosity, along with unease, kept her quiet. If he didn’t say anything, then they could forget she had said it. Of course, they were both so tense, a night together would be beneficial. And the guy was hot. Seriously.
She was awkward when it came to dating, or when it came to this, and that was usually all right with her. Not this time. This time, she wanted to be smooth and charming. That wasn’t happening.
Then he turned down the lane to his house.
Her breath caught. Then she quickly texted her mother that she was in a minor wreck and not to worry in case the news picked it up, plus that she was staying with a friend for the night.
He parked outside the first garage door of the sprawling shop building. “Stay in your seat.” Jumping out, he released the dog and then crossed around to open her door, leaning in to stare in her eyes. “Tell me the truth. Are you hurt? Dizzy? Foggy at all?” If the man got any sweeter, she might have to reconsider her analysis of opposites not being good for each other.
“No. My brain is fine.” She yelped when he plucked her out of her seat and turned, striding for the front door of his cabin. Then she laughed.
The dog wisely finished his business and ran in behind them, hustling into the kitchen to eat.
Huck set her on the back of the sofa and unbuckled his belt and thigh holster, placing them on a table near the door. He turned back to her, his gaze glittering.
Then they were on each other. He tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her, his mouth cold from outside and his tongue hot enough to burn. His kiss was rough and demanding, contrasting with the firm hand holding her in place.
Heat and need shot through her body, landing between her legs. She shoved her hands up beneath his shirt and coat, scratching along his ripped abs.
He tore his mouth away and unzipped his coat, his gaze dark and hungry. The coat dropped to the floor, and he grasped her zipper, then tossed her coat on top of his. “If you’re hurt, let me know. Anything. Promise?”
She nodded. This kind of need couldn’t be healthy. She’d read about wild desire in books, but never in her life had shewantedlike this. Mere hormones and the earlier adrenaline rush didn’t fully explain the feelings coursing through her.
He slowly drew his shirt over his head and revealed that chest she’d wanted to play with before. Hard and muscled.
She reached for the zipper of his cargo pants.
“Not yet.” He grasped the bottom of her sweater and drew the soft material over her head before dropping to his knees. Even on his knees, his head remained level with her ribcage, although she was perched on the back of the sofa. The difference in their sizes, so obvious in the moment, spiraled her desire even higher.
He bent his head and gently traced his fingers over her ribcage. “You’re bruised here.” Then he leaned in and kissed the spot where his fingers had touched.
Her abdominal muscles contracted, and her thighs widened. “I don’t hurt,” she gasped.
He reached behind her and unhooked her plain pink bra, drawing the straps down her arms and revealing her breasts. He cupped them both and then ran his knuckles across her clavicle. “Bruised here, too,” he murmured, leaning in and licking along her collarbone.
Nerves fired inside her, shooting electrical currents through her body. She shoved both hands into his thick dark hair and held on. While she’d expected fast and wild, he was giving her controlled and attentive. Even though she’d claimed to be unharmed, he was double-checking before proceeding. He was also driving her insane. “Huck.” She pulled on his hair to force his head up. Then she leaned down and took his mouth.
He planted both hands on her thighs and tilted his head, taking over the kiss as naturally as breathing. Without warning, he stood and lifted her, his hands firm on the back of her legs. Then he moved toward the bedroom, still kissing her, still in control.
She trembled, her nails digging into his shoulders, returning his kiss. The man reminded her of the storm outside, wild and free, natural and beautiful. Unfathomable and dangerous.
He set her on the bed and crouched, unlacing her boots and sliding them off. “Any pain in your ankles?” He slipped down her socks and caressed her feet, ankles, and up her legs.
“No,” she breathed. The only pain was the one getting stronger and more insistent . . . for him.
He levered himself up and reached for her skirt, drawing the thick material and her panties down her legs in one smooth motion. “You’re beautiful, Laurel.” He leaned over and kissed her right hipbone, surprising her. “So small.” His hands caressed her flanks, carefully avoiding the bruises across the front of her ribcage. “So fragile.”
She clasped his arms and tried to pull him up. “I’m not fragile.”
He cocked his head like a predator spotting prey. “Is that a fact? Let’s see how well you shatter.” With a wicked grin, he nipped her abdomen and then moved farther down, unerringly finding her with his mouth.
She arched off the bed, fire lancing through her.
