Forbidden Fantasies Bundle(178)

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when this guy is toast?” he asked.

“Do we have to talk about him?”

“Yeah, I think we do. But it’s okay,” he said, as his arms wrapped around her, just above her breasts.

She felt tiny, even though she wasn’t. She was five-seven, and she’d never been with any man who made her feel this delicate. Oddly, it didn’t make her feel helpless. Just, small.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips almost touching her ear.

Christie quivered, and not from fear. He had her. He had her. She closed her eyes, cocooned in this man, encircled by heat and flesh and wet, and she wasn’t just small. She was…safe.

Her throat clenched, and it was sheer will that kept her from crying all over again. It seemed impossible that only a moment ago, she’d lost all hope, and now, with his arms, and his words, and his body, he’d changed everything.

“You okay?”

She sniffed. Nodded.

“So what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”

“Go to Disneyland?”

“Christie.”

She smiled. He could do stern schoolmarm so well. “Get a new bed.”

He chuckled and she felt it all the way down her back. “That’s good. What else?”

“Get a new job, maybe? Remind my friends that I’m still alive. Take Milo to the park.”

“Okay. Keep those things in mind. Keep them as close as you can. What we’re going to do tonight, is get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll start again. We’ll train in the morning. In the afternoon—”

“Hold it. Get some rest? I hope that means you plan to 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.