sleep with me here in this bathtub.”
“Uh, no. But tell you what. I’ll make us up a bed in the living room. I’ll be right there, right next to you. Me and Milo. No one’s getting past the two of us.”
“Well, we can try.”
“You’ll sleep, trust me. Now,” he said, releasing her from his gentle hold, “lean forward.”
She did, not even questioning his motive. She curled her arms around her legs, leaned her cheek on her knee and waited.
His hands, warmed in the water, went to her shoulders. He began a massage that hurt and felt wonderful at the same time. The wonderful won hands down.
With the patience of a saint, he worked on her neck, her shoulders, even her scalp. She hadn’t moaned so much since the last time she’d had great sex, and that was a long, long time ago.
He didn’t do anything else. It wasn’t a prelude, it wasn’t about loosening her up. The thing was, they both knew he could have. That she would have welcomed a sexual touch, but that wasn’t what he gave her. This was better. It was what she’d wanted even when she hadn’t known how to ask.
He had her add hot water three times. Her fingers and toes looked like dried figs, but she never wanted him to stop. Those large hands, those calloused fingers, were so gentle, so amazing, she felt like a puddle of goo.
“Christie?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we’d better get out now. I’m starting to develop gills.”
She smiled. Turned off the jets and lifted the plug. Her moments of peace were over. Perhaps some of these feelings would linger. If he slept close enough. If she could still feel him next to her.
Bracing his hands on the edge of the tub, Boone got out first. He got one of her towels from the rack, the big Egyptian cotton bathsheet and instead of drying himself off, he held it out for her.
All she could think as she stood, as he wrapped her in warm terrycloth, was that this might have been the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her. She wasn’t used to kind men. Not good-looking kind men. That seemed to be a contradiction in terms.
The only thing she was sure of was that even though she knew the blood was still all over her bed, that the bastard had gotten into her home again, and that it wasn’t over, not by a long shot, she felt relaxed. For that, the man deserved a medal.
He’d gotten himself a towel, and was using it like sandpaper. His gun, which had been right by the tub the entire time, was in his hand even before he put on his pants.
She watched the muscles ripple in his broad back, the way his bare toes tried to grip the white carpet. He turned then, and she saw that somewhere between the tub and the towel, he’d gotten hard. It was a shock to see something so sexual, to realize that he’d ignored everything but her comfort, her needs.
She walked to him, tightening her towel around her chest. When she stood directly behind him, he stopped, dead still, but he said nothing. He was bent slightly forward, his free hand flexed by his side.
Christie touched his back. His skin rippled and he sucked in a sharp breath, waiting. The only other sound was the echo of her own heart pounding in her ears. She was nervous, but sure. She wanted so badly to give him back something as intimate and generous as what he’d given to her.
With her left hand still on his back, she touched his side, being as calm and slow-moving as if she were gentling a feral cat. Her fingers slipped over the sharp curve of his hipbone, then through hair that was soft and still damp.
She found him harder now, and his gasp sharper when she touched him. First with one finger, then with two, running up his length. She curved her palm over the smooth corona—it was moist, but not from the bathwater.
Boone twitched again—his cock, and then his whole body. She could feel his tension with her left hand, his heat with her right. She didn’t want to tease. She curved her hand around him and moved up and down his length, listening to his breath, feeling him in a way she’d never felt another.
It didn’t take long. He’d been ready for a long time, sublimating as he tended to her fears. Now it was all focused on him, only she found herself wanting more. Selfish, she knew, but she wanted to kiss him.
She didn’t. She just moved her hand faster, pumping his flesh, waiting until every muscle in his body tensed, his head jerked back, his legs shook.
His hand went to her wrist, stilling her.
“It’s all right,” she whispered at the shell of his ear. “I’ve got you.”
He let go.
When he came, it was quiet. Banked so tightly, she wondered if it physically hurt him. She continued to move her hand, but far more gently now. Releasing him wasn’t easy. She walked to the second sink, washed her hands then dampened a washcloth. She handed it to him. He didn’t say anything, or even look at her.
Feeling suddenly shy, she turned her back to him while she dressed. It felt weird to put on her jeans, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
When she turned around again, he was in everything but his shoes. “Boone?”
Finally, he looked at her. Straight on. With his elegant green eyes and his dark, thick lashes. “Yeah?” he asked.
“Thanks.”
He breathed in and out, his nostrils flaring slightly. Then he gave her that half smile of his. “We’re a team.”
She smiled back. “You bet.”
“I’m gonna do another quick check of the house. You want to come, or stay in here?”
“Come.”
“Let’s lock and load.”
HE WATCHED THEM,WISHINGhe could move the cameras so he could see her better. She was losing it. The blood had been a stroke of genius. And when he killed Boone in front of her eyes? That would be the crowning moment of his plan. She’d be his, then. And she’d do exactly as she was told.
THEY MOVED THE MATTRESS FROM the guest bed to the floor of the living room. Christie never left his side. When he went to the kitchen, there she was. When he ran his equipment around the front door, she stood patiently waiting, even though he knew she had to be exhausted. The physiological comedown from the shock of finding the blood would drain her of energy. Add to that the bath and the massage, and she should be out cold.
He was counting on that. He needed to look at his video, and he didn’t want to wait until morning. If there were any chance of identifying this asshole, he wanted it now.
He had to keep pulling himself back to the job, ignoring what had happened in the bathroom. It didn’t mean anything. She’d given him comfort, just as he’d given that to her. And it was done. Over.
The house checked out, although Boone didn’t have the same confidence in his equipment after the break-in. He just kept things low and slow, and if the geek was watching, he wouldn’t see anything Boone didn’t want him to see.
Unless
