Chapter Seventeen
Althea woke tobright daylight flooding through a break in the curtains. She turned with a gasp to find Flynn lying beside her. He lay on his back, in a deep slumber. Not wishing to venture out into the cold from the cocoon of warmth, she studied his handsome face in repose. His features softened in sleep, his mouth more vulnerable. A shadow of a beard darkened his angular jaw. Her senses spun, and a searing need built within her, so strong it shocked her.
She reminded herself that he was not here just for her; he had a job to do. Whatever his protestations, he’d led a life she couldn’t approve of. If she managed to maintain some distance between them, it would be far easier when they parted. Difficult, when she had come to like him and wanted to learn everything about him, goodandbad.
A thought suddenly struck her and she lifted the coverlet. She sighed with relief. He still wore his trousers. Was that part of his gallantry to spare her embarrassment?
“Are you searching for something? Can I help you find it?”
Althea blinked; his eyes were warm and compelling. Her hand went to her heated cheek. “I merely wondered what you slept in.”
His mouth curved in a grin. “And you’re disappointed?”
She ignored him. “I gather nothing occurred downstairs during the night?”
“Not a thing.”
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
He turned on his side facing her and supported his head on his hand. “It was dawn. You were asleep, with your hand tucked so sweetly under your cheek.” He smiled. “Just like a babe. And you thoughtfully left enough room in the bed for me. That sofa in the salon was devilishly uncomfortable. I had to share it with your cat.”
She smothered a laugh. “Oh dear.”
“Your beloved animal purred nonstop and kneaded me with its claws.”
She firmed her lips, but a chuckle escaped. “I am sorry.”
“You’re quite obviously not.” His foot touched hers.
She hastily moved it away. Unnerved by his proximity, she gazed at the clock on the dresser. “Ten o’clock! Goodness, I had no idea it was so late. It’s a wonder Sally hasn’t knocked.” She threw back the coverlet and turned to leave the bed.
His hand on her arm prevented her. “The girl has sense,” he said in that silky tone she distrusted.
“What are you up to, Flynn?” She tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he refused to release her.
“Don’t I rate a good-morning kiss after my night spent in purgatory?”
“I thought we had an agreement.” The knowledge that a kiss would completely undo her sharpened her voice.
“I don’t recall any such agreement,” he said, sliding closer. “Did I sign it?”
She attempted to rise and found herself on her back with Flynn leaning over her. His sleepy eyes held a gleam of intent.
Her unreliable body responded with heat and an unfamiliar throb of desire in her lower regions. “One kiss,” she said, her voice faint.
“Who’s counting?” He cradled her chin in his large hand and pressed his mouth to hers. She expected to be manhandled, and grew rigid, every muscle tense. But Flynn’s kiss was slow, thoughtful, as if he was learning the shape of her mouth. Her taut limbs slackened, her thoughts scattered, and her fingers found his hair, sliding through the silky waves.
His hand promptly settled on her hip while his tongue traced her mouth, lingering over the fullness of her bottom lip. When her lips parted, he explored the recesses of her mouth. Mindless, she gave in to her body’s reaction to his invasion. Her hand at the nape of his neck drew him closer, and she sighed into his mouth.
Flynn groaned. His lips left hers to nibble at her earlobe and bite gently on the tender part of her neck. A moan escaped her lips when his hand swept over her ribs to cup a breast, warmth spreading through her nightgown.
Her nipples throbbed with the need to be touched. Despite a voice in her head warning her that this was a terrible mistake, she found his assault on her senses impossible to resist. He searched her eyes and knew it, kissing her with increased hunger.
He broke away, raw heat in his eyes. “Althea.”
A knock came at the door.
“Sally,” she whispered.
