The Watson Brothers. Lori Foster
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was a danger to herself and to him, a giddy young woman with more bravado than common sense. What the hell did she think, putting herself in danger for him? If he let her hang around, she’d be forever underfoot, forever taking risks that no woman should take.
With renewed conviction for his quickly formed plans, Sam stormed up the stairs.
He found her sitting on the side of his bed, her feet together, her hands folded in her lap, her breast still uncovered. She looked wary and uncertain and flushed with excitement and so…ready, he broke out in a sweat.
Sam forced himself to stop in the doorway. Watching her, he began unbuttoning his shirt, then gave a grimace of pain as he pulled it off his wrenched shoulder.
“You’re hurt!” She shot off the bed in a flash, her soft hands fluttering all over him, finding bruises and swollen muscles, her damn tender touch setting him on fire.
“Sit—back—down.”
She blinked at his tone. “But you need the ice worse than I did. That ape hurt you. We should take you to the hospital….”
“Sit, Ariel.” She drew back, hurt and confused. “One of the rules,” he drawled, trying to soften his command. “You don’t touch me unless I tell you to. Now, don’t look like that. I’m fine, really. My own brothers have put worse bruises on me just horsing around. Trust me, I’m not being macho. It’s nothing that won’t heal in a day or two.”
She looked undecided, but fell silent when he dropped into a chair and unbuckled his ankle holster.
She stared at his small off-duty weapon, a .38 caliber five-shot revolver. He always had it on him when working undercover because his primary weapon, a .40 caliber Glock, would be too easy to detect. “You carry a gun?”
“That’s a…” He started to say stupid question, but caught himself. He really didn’t want her to think he considered her dumb. “I’m a cop. Of course I carry a gun.” And then, when he retrieved the lethally sharp knife from the other leg, he added, “Among other things.”
Her eyes were huge when he crossed to the nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. He lifted out a metal box, turned the key in the lock, and opened it. Once the gun and knife were safely inside, he relocked the box and pocketed the key.
Under normal circumstances, both weapons would have sat atop the box, but then, this wasn’t a normal circumstance—not by a long shot. And Sam never took unnecessary chances with safety, especially with his gun.
Shirtless, in his bare feet but with his pants on as a deterrent, he went to her. She looked adorable sitting there, all mussed and nervous and he felt like a conquering hero ready to ravish the innocent. It wasn’t at all an unpleasant or inadequate perception.
Using just the edge of his finger, he stroked her exposed nipple. It was puckered tight, a pale pink, and he wanted to draw her into his mouth. Why not? he thought. This was his show.
He caught her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Stand still.” With no preliminaries, he bent and covered her with his mouth, curled his tongue around her, and sucked.
She jerked hard and stepped back, almost falling onto the mattress.
Sam looked at her. “I said to be still.”
“Reaction.” She blinked hard. “I…I didn’t mean to—”
He again took her into his mouth and this time she moaned, stiffened her arms and her back and held as still as a statue. He suckled at her, loving her taste, the way she trembled, the desperate little sounds she made. Using his tongue he stroked her, teased, then sucked hard.
“Sam!”
“Shh.” He straightened to look at his handy work. Her nipple was now ripe, reddened, and wet. “This is cute,” he managed to say, his voice little more than a rumble as he flipped the material of her ruined dress, “but I think I’d prefer you naked.”
Her chest rose and fell, both from what he’d been doing and what he would do.
“I’m going to undress you, stretch you out on the bed, and taste you like that all over.”
Her lips parted. “All…?”
“Over. Don’t move.” He reached behind her for the zipper to her dress.
Disregarding his orders, she leaned into him and breathed deep. “You smell so good, Sam.”
He grunted at that, but didn’t push her away. It felt nice having her lean into him. “You find the smell of sweat and alcohol appealing, do you?”
“Your sweat, yes.”
He stripped the tiny sleeves off her shoulders and let them drop down to her elbows. He reached for the back fastening of her bra. The position put his cheek over her shoulder and he could feel her silky blond curls touch his ear, his jaw. Shit, now he was trembling.
“You don’t smell like alcohol though. Just like a man, like you. I’ve always thought you smelled good.”
“Another rule,” he said as he peeled the bra away, leaving her naked from the waist up. “No talking.”
“But…”
“No talking. You’re distracting me.” And making me crazy and I won’t be able to do this if you don’t quit.
She covered her breasts with her arms, making Sam lift a brow. “Change your mind?”
She shook her head.
“Then don’t hide from me.” He waited, wondering if she’d call it quits, half hoping she would, half praying she wouldn’t. “Make up you mind, Ariel. Anytime you want this to end, all you have to do is tell me. I’ll walk you to the door.”
She swallowed hard, drew a fortifying breath and let her arms hang at her sides.
He admired her courage. “It’s only going to get harder you know. If you’ve changed your mind—”
“I haven’t.”
But she would. Eventually. How far would he have to go before she cried uncle? No matter, he had to carry it to the bitter end. He had to ensure she wouldn’t test him again, because he wasn’t at all certain of his ability to resist her.
“All right, then.” He pulled the dress over her hips and let it drop. It pooled around her feet. “Step out of it.”
She did, accepting the hand he offered for balance. Left only in panties and sandals, she blushed bright pink. But Sam paid little enough attention to her face when her body was all but bare. His hands at her waist, he stroked her, from her hips to her ribs and back again. She was a little too slim, her curves understated. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”
He didn’t get a reply, but then, he didn’t expect one.
He glanced up at her face. “You blond everywhere?”
Her color deepened.
“No, don’t tell me. I want to find out for myself.” Then, smiling into her shocked face, he whispered, “Take them off.”
Chapter Three
Ariel had never felt so exposed in her entire life. She gulped and tried to find a little courage.
“I’m waiting.”
He just stood there, his arms crossed over his hairy chest, his feet braced apart. His silky dark hair was mussed, hanging over his brow and beard shadow darkened his jaws and upper lip. His long black lashes hung low over his piercing eyes, direct, taunting. Watchful and expectant.
She wanted to throw him to the floor and drag his slacks off his gorgeous body and kiss him all over. But he wanted to do things his own way and she knew Sam well enough to know it was his way or not at all.
“All right.” Feeling awkward and unsophisticated, she hooked her