against a hard, warm body.
‘Let me go!’ She fought in earnest, desperate to be free.
The voice she dimly registered … it was familiar. And the hauntingly real scene gripping her mind began to fade, lingering on the fringes as it was superimposed by a lit room, recognition of the hotel suite, and the man who held her.
Wolfe.
His warm hard-muscled body … dear heaven, naked, she starkly registered as he trailed a soothing hand down her spine.
Tears welled up in her eyes and hovered there, threatening to spill, then they overflowed to run in a slow rivulet down each cheek.
A husky oath escaped from his lips, and he lifted a hand to her cheek, gently brushing a thumb pad over one cheek, then the other.
‘Easy, now.’ His voice was quiet, almost soothing as he regarded her carefully, and there was a degree of concern apparent.
His breath teased the hair at her temple, tendrils that had escaped in her fierce struggle to be free of her nightmare captor, and her eyes dilated as he feathered the stray hair behind her ear.
Lara didn’t think she was capable of uttering so much as a word.
The scene was surreal. Time stood still, encapsulated in a moment which seemed to stretch long as she processed the waiting, watchful quality apparent in his dark eyes.
A word, a slight indication on her part …
She had to move, put some distance between them, and the breath hitched in her throat as she pushed her hands against his chest, using leverage to widen the space.
Wolfe caught the indecision, the momentary fear … and something else. Innocent curiosity?
Curiosity, perhaps … but innocence?
He allowed her to shift to arm’s length, shaping her slender frame as he skimmed his hands to cup her shoulders, aware if he released her she’d scuttle beneath the bedcovers.
‘Do you want to talk about whatever pitched you into that particular hell?’
Heartfelt confidences in the depth of night, only to be regretted in the light of day?
‘No.’ Any rehashing would only keep the scene alive in her mind, and possibly plunge her back into it within minutes of Wolfe dousing the bedside lamp. ‘I’m fine.’
Sure, she was. But she desperately needed the solace of a darkened room, not to mention a physical distance between her and the dangerous man whose power to affect her was positively lethal.
For several long seconds his eyes seared hers, seconds when she felt the pulse thud at the base of her throat, and she unconsciously lifted her hand to hide it from view.
She felt raw, and incredibly vulnerable. Wanting, needing comfort, but hesitant to seek it in case the action might be misconstrued.
A faint smile curved his lips as he leant forward and brushed his mouth to her forehead. ‘Try to sleep, hmm?’ Without a further word he released her, then he stood to his feet and slid between the covers of his own bed. Seconds later the room plunged into darkness as he switched off the lamp.
Lara inched low, closed her eyes and endeavoured to covet sleep, forcing herself to lie still and regiment her breathing.
It didn’t work, nothing worked, and she felt inordinately restless, unable to settle in any one position.
She was unaware of exchanging the darkness of night for dark dreams that appeared in seamless, kaleidoscopic confusion … her father’s violent temper and Suzanne’s fear; vicious slaps from her father’s hand because she wasn’t quick enough to obey him; her childish sobbing as she huddled into a foetal ball in a darkened room behind a locked door.
Then strong arms cradled her close, and she instinctively clung to a warm body, holding on tight as a sense of peace seeped into her soul, providing a dreamless somnolence.
Next morning Lara woke to the muted sound of the shower in the en suite, and it was almost eight when she checked her watch.
That was when she noticed the bedcovers were turned back on the opposite side of her bed, the imprint of a head on the pillow beside her own.
Someone had occupied her bed.
Wolfe? Of course, Wolfe!
Had they …? No, of course not. She’d have remembered … and have known!
Which meant … Oh, dear heaven. Snatches of remembered dreams surfaced, and her features paled as she pinned being held through what remained of the night as reality, not part of a dream.
The sound of the en-suite door opening held her transfixed as Wolfe emerged into the room, a white towel hitched at his hips, his dark hair wet.
A curling sensation spiralled up inside as she took in his powerful shoulders, the broad muscular chest with its light sprinkling of dark hair arrowing down past his navel. The narrow waist, lean hips and the length of his legs.
His presence dominated the room, and she lifted her head a little and met his dark gaze.
‘Good morning.’ His drawled greeting curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little.
Wolfe caught the soft tinge of pink colouring her cheeks, divined the cause, and watched the fleeting emotions chase across her expressive features.
‘You slept in my bed.’ A statement which verged close to an accusation, and she saw one eyebrow slant in silent query.
‘It bothered you?’
Her eyes darkened. ‘Yes, damn it.’
‘“Slept” being the operative word,’ he reminded her as he closed the distance between them.
He stood close … too close … for she could sense the soap and shampoo he’d used, the expanse of toned muscle and sinew, and the damning knowledge she’d spent a few hours curled against his naked frame.
‘You’d have preferred me to employ a more intimate distraction?’
‘No. No,’ she reiterated, and caught the amusement apparent in those dark eyes, the slight curve of his mouth as he moved in close.
‘So this will have to suffice.’
He lowered his head and ‘this’ became a wickedly evocative kiss that took hold of her resistance and tossed it high.
It lasted long and lingered, and it was she who groaned with frustration as he lifted his head and left her aching and needy.
‘Any time you change your mind …’ His soft taunt brought her down to earth with a thud, and her eyes sparked dark-blue fire.
‘In your dreams!’
A husky chuckle almost undid her, and he pressed a finger against her lips.
Lara barely resisted
