The Forbidden Life of Alex Moore(14)

He closed his eyes, remembering the soft brush of her fingers against his skin. Her face had been flushed as she touched him, her eyes jewel-bright. Her thoughts had laced the air between them, rousing him from semi-consciousness with the bite of longing.
He should be glad he hadn’t had the strength to answer it.
Carefully, he sat up. She’d bandaged the bites on his arms and legs and the one on his ribs. Blood had soaked through the gauze, but as far as he could see, it was dry now. Even his arm. That one hurt the worst.
The room had a strange cast to it, a sickly yellow that pulled him from the couch to make his slow and painful way to the window. The world outside was a blustering white beneath a sky so gray and frigid it blocked out the sun and distorted its glow. The storm hadn’t eased at all. If anything, night had given it power that even dawn couldn’t diminish.
The big dog—Belle—came to him with a soft whine. The others followed. Even the ridiculous small one. As if hearing the thought, Harley showed Alex his teeth.
“Going to take more than that,” Alex murmured, amused.
“They want out,” a sleepy voice said.
He glanced at Lilly, still curled in her chair and then down at himself, wearing nothing but his briefs.
“Do they need an escort?”
She sat up and looked at him, her crystalline gaze taking in every inch of his naked skin from bare feet up his belly to his chin. It lingered on his mouth before her gaze met his. Her face turned red and Alex crossed his hands in front of his hips to hide a response he couldn’t control.
“Have you heard anything out there?” she asked.
Like the hellhounds she couldn’t hear or see.
He shook his head. “This storm is bad. I don’t think even hellhounds can track in this.”
She looked relieved. He’d always heard that hellhounds were made for the fires of hell, not the bitter cold of winter, but he doubted she’d feel reassured by the information. They’d held their own yesterday and it had been damn cold then. It made him wonder what other false information he’d been given.
Lilly stretched, an uninhibited movement that made Alex’s muscles tighten. Her back arched and her toes pointed. She looked so sleepy and soft that he could almost imagine the scent of her and he yearned to know her taste.
She was staring at him now, her mouth slightly open. Her beautiful eyes, wide.
She’d heard his thoughts.
The desire to act on them nearly pulled him across the room but the toy dog at his feet yipped, reminding Alex that he was waiting. Lilly stood and crossed to the door. She wore soft, clingy pants that accented her shape and a big t-shirt with a wide neck that gaped at her shoulder and hugged her breasts.
“Porch,” she said in a stern voice. Five dogs gave her the okay and she let them out.#p#分页标题#e#
Alex came to stand behind her as she waited in front of the open door, her body warm against the cold blast that chased inside. He felt her stiffen and yield in the same compelling moment. She wanted to lean back; she thought she should move away. Before she could overthink it, Alex stepped closer until he was touching her, chest to shoulder blades, hips a whisper from her round behind.
The dogs had raced down the stairs to take care of their business within a foot of the porch. In seconds they were back in the house. Each one of them shook a shower of snow at him as they passed.
Lilly swung the door shut, but she didn’t move away. Neither did he.
“They listened,” she said, her voice filled with breath and nervousness. “Usually they don’t. Not like they did when Amy talked to them.”
“Oh.” Because she seemed to be waiting for a response.
It was hard to think with her so close. Her hair smelled of apples and looked too soft not to touch. He moved his fingers through it, gently letting the tips scrape her scalp before he pushed it aside, baring the curve of her shoulder where the round neck of her shirt was loose. He felt her catch her breath.
“The storm hasn’t let up at all,” she said.
In case he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t considered that he might be stranded here for days. With her.
He lowered his head and she tilted hers to the side, giving him access to the graceful slope of her neck. He let his breath caress the satiny skin, afraid if he did more, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He should back away, but he couldn’t seem to do it.
“Maybe they won’t be able to find us,” she said.
The words held a wistfulness that wrapped around his senses. Maybe they wouldn’t be found. An idea so intoxicating and forbidden that it made him close his eyes and ground himself in reality.
“They’ll find me. But I’ll be long gone from here when they do.”