by Amy Olle
Prue returned to the kitchen and settled at the island while he worked on putting away the remaining items from the grocery bags.
“What do you want to see first?” Even as she brimmed with eagerness, her eyes held a guarded tint.
This was important to her. Sensing that it somehow mattered to her what he would say and do in the next moments, he went around to stand beside her and peered down at the computer screen. She’d opened a folder, and a long list of documents ran the length of the display.
“Wow, is this all related to our bad guys?”
“Pretty much.” Her smile had a way of taking him by surprise, every time. “It’s amazing what you can find on the internet.”
“Give me the quick overview so I can get a sense of how deep this thing goes, and how much you’ve already got on them.”
She lifted a pair of eyeglasses off her lap and slipped them on her face. They were dark-rimmed and oversized, and transformed her from sultry and sophisticated to cute and vulnerable so fast that a bemused smile touched his lips.
Over the next hour, they sifted through her files.
Her mind was sharp, hyperfocused, and almost turned him on more than her sweet moans in the hotel room, or her delectable curves, visible through her sodden clothing as she emerged from the lake. Almost.
When he leaned close to read the file she’d opened, her breathing hitched a little higher and at the sound, a tug of primal satisfaction pulled at his groin. But she was talking, and saying important and interesting things, so he slammed the door on his wayward thoughts and forced his attention back to her words.
Problem was, she wore short shorts, and her long legs kept distracting him. Soon his mind was jumbled with four years’ worth of sexual fantasies and foreign-sounding names and meaningless corporate acronyms.
“This is incredible.” You’re incredible, and so fucking hot. “I can’t believe you found all this.”
Pink rushed into her cheeks, his compliment visibly flustering her. He marveled at the way the pink color set off the bright blue of her eyes and at the attractiveness of her neat features. Cute no longer captured her appeal. There was too much passion and knowing behind her eyes.
As he stared down into her face, the now-familiar current arced between them, drawing them closer. His head dipped, and her lips parted. If he could have but one taste of her—
What the hell was he doing? He had no idea what was happening to him. He’d gone years without wanting a particular woman. Not one. And now suddenly he wanted her. Owen’s baby sister.
At once, they pulled apart. Hands on his head, he retreated to the living room while she slipped off her stool and rounded the island.
From the one remaining grocery tote, she removed a bottle of shampoo and a can opener. Then a frown touched the corners of her delectable mouth as she peered down into the bag. Reaching inside, she pulled out the scrap of black fabric and held it up, trying to make out its shape.
Her gasp of excitement filled the room, and his heart.
“Is this for me?” She clutched the women’s swimsuit protectively to her chest.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s the only one they had.”
Was he blushing? What the actual fuck?
He twisted away and, bending at the waist, shoved the coffee table across the room and against the wall.
She started toward the bedroom. “Do you want to go for a swim?”
He groaned at the images that sprang to mind. Of Prue, naked.
Under him.
Moaning.
Coming.
“No,” he snapped. “Not yet.”
She tripped to a stop and her gaze slid between him and the coffee table, and back again. “What are you doing?”
“Not me, you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Me? What am I doing?”
“You’re going to learn how to fight.”
Her eyes bulged, and then she was backing away. “Oh no, I don’t think—”
He snatched her hand before she could escape.
She dug in her heels. “But you said I have to tell you everything. I was only getting started.”
“We’ll finish that later.”
“You know, my side is hurting a little.” She stopped abruptly, wincing. “I wouldn’t want to re-injure it.”
He pinned her with a look. “You didn’t seem all that concerned about it when you were frolicking in the lake.”
“Frolicking?”
“Prue, you were attacked.” His words, meant to puncture her reluctance, twisted around and pierced him instead. Bile rose in his throat. “The bastard might’ve killed you.”
She groaned. “But… I’m a pacifist,” she said weakly.
“He could’ve killed Arlo.”
A flash of terror chased across her features.
He turned smug. “I knew it.”
“You knew what?”
“I’ve met a bleeding-heart pacifist or two in my time, and you’re all alike.”
“Is that so?” she asked wryly.
“Yes, that’s so. You’re all sweet and tree hugging… until you’re not.”
A frown puckering her brow, she launched one last counterstrike. “I’m not very athletic. Reading is really more my thing….”
No matter how much she protested, he wouldn’t relent. Not as long as the fear still shimmered in her eyes.
Gently, he traced the bruise on her cheek with his knuckle. “No more fear, Prue.” He let his hand fall away. “It’s time to get pissed.”
Her shoulders sagged with her defeat.
Apart from his noble intentions, when he’d suggested they train, he’d needed something uncomplicated to divert his thoughts away from all the things his body wanted to do to hers. From the prettiness of her face and the lushness of her shape. From the memory of her moans of pleasure in that hotel room.
His plan backfired. Miserably.
When she mimicked his movements, thrusting her palm into the center of his chest as he instructed, her breasts jiggled tantalizingly and his concentration snapped. When he asked her to turn around so he could approach her from behind, as a perp might, the dry pair of shorts she’d changed into molded to her tight, round ass with a perfection that momentarily mesmerized him. When she arched her back to take hold of his wrist as he coached her to do, her tank top strained across her chest and the straps of her bra peeked out to tease him with fantasies of ripping the holster away from her body to set her glorious tits free.
Indeed, rather than taking his mind off her body, their workout placed her hot little form front and center. Now he had a raging hard-on and a headache forming between his brows from the lack of blood feeding his brain.
“No, like this.” He demonstrated the move again, careful to show her with slow, deliberate movements. The heel of his palm brushed the swells of her cleavage and he nearly groaned with thwarted desire.
She imitated his movements again, but his gaze remained riveted to her chest when her hand crashed into his sternum with enough force to knock him back a step.
“Sorry.” She rushed forward. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Nice shot. Do it again.”
She squared up and repeated the strike.
“Perfect,” he said, rubbing the spot.
Her smile flashed quick and bright, and suddenly his chest ached for a different reason than the blow she’d landed there. They’d been practicing for more than an hour, and if the delectable jiggling had been too much, he didn’t stand a chance against her smiles.
“I wish I’d known that move a couple of days ago,” she said.
His gut churned. “You think it might’ve helped?”
A self-deprecating smirk twisted her mouth. “Would’ve been better than what I did.”
“What do you mean?” Lord help him, he didn’t want to know what she meant.
“I ran.” Her soft chuckle lacked the richness of her true laugh. “And when he caught m
e, I tried to punch him. You know, they make it look so easy in the movies, but holy crap, did that hurt. I thought I broke my hand. After that, I just tried to kick him in the crotch.”
With a scowl, he reached for her hand.
She pulled it away. “Oh, it’s fine now.”
He refused to relinquish his hold and dragged her small hand beneath his critical gaze. Cradling her fingers in his palm, he fingered her knuckles and the other fine bones of her hand, pressing and wiggling as he checked for mobility and pain.
“It only hurt for a few hours,” she muttered.
Satisfied she hadn’t broken any bones, he released her. “When overpowered, you should always try to evade your opponent. There’s no shame in that. But if that doesn’t work, kicking a man in the nuts is a solid strategy.”
A pure smile worked its way to her lips. “Is that the next lesson?”
His throat tight, he snagged his water bottle off the coffee table. “I think that’s enough for today.”
“Oh okay.” She relaxed her stance.
“It’s a good start.” He held her bottle out to her. “You’re a natural.”
She took the water and untwisted the cap. “It’s physics. Like you said.”
“Pretty sure I never said that.”
It was incredible the way her smile lit up her entire face. “You did. When you were talking about how it doesn’t matter if I’m not the biggest or the strongest, or even the fastest. That if I understand the ways the human body can and cannot bend, and exploit those weaknesses, I stand a good chance in any fight.”
If he wasn’t so jaded, he might’ve believed her smile existed for him and him alone.
“See? Physics.” She took a long, slow drink of water. “Oh, and you were right about the anger. That changes everything.”
Damn, she was beautiful. Dewy moisture clung to her skin and when she reached up to release the heavy mass of her hair, which she’d piled on top of her head, the dark tresses shimmied around her shoulders.
“Mind if I go for a swim?” she asked.
Hell yes, he minded. As it was, he was hanging by a thread, calling on every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep himself from snatching her to him and sucking on her plump, pouty mouth.
With his grunt, she disappeared behind her bedroom door, reappearing a few agonizing moments later. At the sight of her, a growl of frustrated desire ripped through him.
The swimsuit was not particularly revealing, in a throwback style of the forties’ pin-up, but she had enough flesh to give the vintage bombshells serious competition. The fabric cradled her breasts, which were round and full, before dipping halfway to her naval, and her hips flared generously from the inward curve of her small waist.
As they walked toward the lake, he tried to focus on the landscape, but the hypnotic sway of her hips pulled him in a little deeper with each rhythmic undulation until he was drowning in lust and carnal need.
While she ventured into the water, he reclined on the beach, willing his erection away. He’d almost managed the feat—until she emerged from the lake to walk back to him. Her dark hair slicked black with wet and water sluiced off her body. Through the bathing suit, her nipples, pebbled with chill, beckoned.
Oorah.
With a sharp motion, he sat. He’d never experienced anything like this. The want was all-consuming. Maddening. How was it he’d gone so long without hunger only to be suddenly, desperately ravenous?
She bent to pluck her beach towel off the warm sand, and her breasts swayed with her movements.
A pucker appeared on her forehead. “Are you okay?”
Unable to drag his gaze from her lush curves, he swallowed with a painful gulp. “I’m starving.”
She moaned. “Me, too. Want me to fix us something to eat?”
He nodded, or maybe he was only tracking the soft jiggle of her amazing breasts too rigorously. “I think there’s a grill in the garage.”
“Seriously?” She waved a hand at him. “Go. Get it. I’ll get the food.”
He didn’t own much stuff, mostly just some books and the things leftover after Shea cleaned out their dad’s place, so he located the grill easily enough. He found a wooden table he didn’t recall ever seeing before and pulled down a couple of beach chairs he spotted hanging from the rafters.
On the patio, she set out a fat cluster of grapes and a bag of potato chips while he lit the grill and tossed on the chicken breasts and veggies she’d prepared. Then he sank into the empty beach chair beside her just as she lifted a grape to her mouth. With a flash of small, even white teeth her plump lips wrapped around the juicy fruit.
Hell, even the way she ate grapes made him hard. Her lips parted for the next bite and his mind rocketed back to that hotel room, where she lay before him, her legs spread and her soft moans of pleasure raining down on his head. If she fellated one more grape, he was going to explode.
Her eyes touched his face, and when she saw his expression, she froze. On a quick intake of breath, her blue eyes darkened.
With arousal.
He wanted to fuck her so badly his cock ached. If only he could recall the night he’d spent in her bed, maybe he could go on with his life, content with the memories. As it was, he had nothing but a hunger so fierce it drove his every thought and feeling.
He wanted to stop wanting her.
But more than that, he wanted to never stop. The wanting was delicious and maddening. Deliciously maddening.
Despite the clash of opposing wants—and because, apparently, he’d lost his ever-loving mind—he drew closer to her. Just one touch, he told himself, though he understood, even in that moment of crazed lust, that she’d be harder to quit than any bottle of liquor he’d ever done battle with.
At the last possible moment, he wrenched himself away from her, collapsing back in his chair. A hard scowl on his face, he stared out over the lake. How in the hell was going to get through the next few days without touching her? Without kissing her, on her mouth and everywhere else also. Again.
He needed a distraction. A better distraction than teaching her to fight, or anything that involved her wearing that swimsuit, or those short shorts, or the nerdy eyeglasses.
Maybe he needed some time alone. That was it, he needed some time alone with the mobsters and the bad guys trying to kill her.
Turning his head, he asked, “Can I see your laptop?”
Throughout the remainder of that day, Leo hunched over her laptop, combing through the morass of records and notes she’d gathered the past few months. Mostly he kept to himself, stopping only once in a while to ask her questions about the disparate puzzle pieces in his careful, comprehensive effort to make order out of the chaos.
At some point, a warm sensation began to spread through her. It felt a little like love, but she knew that wasn’t it. That’d be silly. It was just so nice to have someone to share her work with. Someone in addition to Paul Cook, who she’d interacted with only through emails and social media. Someone real. And not just anyone, but Leo.
Her Leo.
Her heart full, she became obsessed with watching him. The way he moved around the house and patio as he studied her work, smooth and light-footed. His muscular chest and flat stomach, left exposed by the unbuttoned shirt that he wore with his shorts. Even his bare feet were sexy. And his dimples. Were they real? She hadn’t imagined them, had she? What could she do to draw them out? Was there anything that might him smile?
The warm day ebbed into a balmy dusk, and as the sun barreled toward the horizon, she dropped into a beach chair in the sand to watch its final descent. Far off shore, the boats floating by throughout the day moored to take in the view as well.
As Leo planted a chair in the sand beside her, she looked up. He cradled Arlo in the crook of his elbow and his shirttail flapped in the gentle breeze, permitting her more mouthwatering glimpses of his bare torso.
She dug her toes beneath the top layer of warm sand and tried to focus on the glowing orange ball’
s plunge into the lake, or the waves crashing to shore with steady, unrelenting resolve. But the slow, seductive slide of Leo’s hand over Arlo’s fur kept drawing her gaze back to it. Little flutters tickled in her stomach at the way the muscles of his forearms rippled with his movements.
From her chair, she could hear Arlo’s satisfied purr, and she experienced a stab of jealousy.
Leo stroked the cat as he stared into the setting sun. In profile, his jaw was set and she experienced a pang of sorrow to see that a touch of troubled pain had returned to his features. She knew nothing about what haunted him, and as night settled around them, her fears also wanted to creep in with the shadows.
Her mind wanted to engage with them, calling up memories of her assault. Tossing out hand grenades to detonate inside her head. Had her attacker followed them to the island? Did he lurk in the shadows, waiting for the cover of darkness to strike? Would she be able to sleep? In her own bed, alone? She shivered and tried to push away the brain bombs.
Since the attack, the only time she’d managed to truly leave behind her terror was in the hotel room. When she was with Leo.
Sneaking a glance at him, she chewed on her bottom lip. His gaze had dropped to a spot in the sand a few feet in front of him, and for a moment, he appeared as lost and broken as he had that night at the bar.
The darkness in him scared her more than the memories.
She wished she knew a way to help him, as he had helped her. Coming for her when she didn’t call him, whisking her away to this secret haven, what he did for her in the hotel room….
A thought struck. What if she could help him, by doing for him what he’d done for her? Okay, maybe not that. She’d never pleased a man that way before. But she was willing to try, and she was a fast learner. Everyone said so.
Her heart kicked in her chest, but this time, a different kind of fear stirred inside her.
Leo’s skillful fingers teased Arlo’s tiny kitten ears, and the cat’s one eye fell shut with his shameless hedonism.
She swallowed the ball of nervousness rising in her throat. “You sure know how to satisfy a pussy.”