Take It Down. Kira Sinclair
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basic training?”
A shiver raced down Zane’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was the thought of her alone on the streets of Atlanta late at night, or in secret solidarity with anyone who’d risk threatening this little ball of energy under the misguided notion that she’d be an easy target.
“Point taken.”
She smiled. This time, it wasn’t a taunting gesture but one of understanding. Without another word, she turned and crossed the rest of the pool. Climbing up the tiled steps at the shallow end, she stood at the edge.
For the first time since she’d left the bar, he really looked at her. She was beautiful. And bedraggled. Her hair, normally bright was now dark with water. It dripped from the ends, making a gentle plopping sound as each drop hit the concrete deck.
Turning to face him, she tipped her head sideways and began to wring water from her hair. A puddle spread at her feet, turning the sun-baked concrete dark.
He’d half expected her to have mascara and other makeup streaking her face, but she didn’t. Her dark lashes were absolutely natural.
Straightening up, she looked down at herself, lifting her hands and shaking them. A spray of water followed the gesture.
“I hope you’re happy. I liked this dress. And these shoes will never be the same.”
She looked back down at him as he stood mute in the center of the pool. His brain and his gaze were lost somewhere between the wet material that clung to her breasts and the shadowy triangle at the juncture of her thighs made by the skin-hugging fabric.
Her nipples puckered in the cool night air. He could see the way they peaked against the wet fabric. His mouth went bone-dry and his cock hardened to half attention. Shaking his head, he tried to ignore the normal physical response—hers and his. It didn’t matter that his brain told his anatomy she was responding to the temperature, not him. He hadn’t taken a lover in almost two years…since Felicity died.
Until tonight, he hadn’t realized it had been that long. He definitely needed to get laid.
“Why were you following me?”
“I told you I’d be watching.”
“Yes, but I thought you meant with those high-tech cameras mounted all over this place. I didn’t think you were actually going to stalk me.”
“Not stalk, follow. There’s a difference.”
“Tell that to my shoes.”
Turning on her heel, Elle let out a resigned sigh. A shower of droplets arched behind her. Zane figured she’d probably have appreciated the effect if she could have seen it.
Her feet squelched in her shoes. The sound and the sight of her made his lips twitch against the urge to bust out laughing. Something told him she wouldn’t appreciate that right now.
A trail of water was left in her wake, like the line a snail left behind when it moved. Trudging his way across the pool, he followed her, happy that the almost laughter seemed to have relieved the pressure of an erection he had no desire she become aware of.
“At least your shoes are open toed. I have on socks. Do you know how uncomfortable they are once they’ve soaked up half the pool?” he called out to her.
She threw a glare over her shoulder. “Nope, and I really don’t care.”
His lips twitched again.
She was five feet away from the path that lead toward the plantation house when she stopped suddenly in her tracks. Without turning around, she asked, “Well, are you coming? If you’re going to follow me, I’d rather you do it in the open so I can avoid another unexpected swim.”
She waited patiently for him to join her. As he walked up beside her, he couldn’t help but notice the way her back straightened. Or the soggy dress as it clung to the curves of her ass.
A maze of unexpected reactions and contradictions burst through his body. He was attracted to her. Considering he hadn’t found anyone attractive—including the half-naked women who paraded around this place all the time—since Felicity, he wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge.
No, he did. Nothing. It was chemical. Or biological. Or some other-ical that he’d never understood in college.
He found himself unnervingly intrigued by Elle Monroe. And considering he knew she was up to no good, that probably wasn’t an intelligent reaction.
ELLE HATED THAT SHE WAS dripping all over the lobby floor. While the place was clearly a hotel, it also retained the air of someone’s home, which came from its previous life as a working cocoa plantation.
It just went against the manners Nana had drilled into her brain. But the woman behind the desk smiled as she walked past, not even flinching at her bedraggled state. She supposed the front-desk clerk had seen plenty of shocking things at Escape…especially if she usually worked the night shift.
Elle watched as the woman’s expression changed the minute Zane walked in behind her. Purely from objective observation, Elle recognized the feminine interest in the woman’s eyes. How her dark brown irises sharpened.
“Zane. You’re out and about late tonight.” His shoes squeaked loudly against the highly polished wood floor. “Wet.”
Elle heard the barely suppressed giggle in the woman’s voice and fought the urge to snarl.
“We had a small mishap at the pool.”
“Should I call Marcy?”
“No!” The word burst from both of them at the exact same time. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain how both she and the head of security had ended up wet. Together.
Without another word, they continued past the reception desk and into the hallway. Elle reached for the up button by the single elevator, but before she could punch it, Zane’s hand was wrapped around her elbow again.
It was a nasty habit she was definitely going to have to break him of.
Zane steered her down the quiet hallway, toward a door marked Staff Only. Pulling a key card from his pocket, he unlocked the door, saying, “Faster.”
The elevator he unceremoniously pushed her into spit them both out directly across from the door to her room. She’d looked at the door they walked out of several times and could have sworn it housed another suite…definitely not a freight elevator.
The building did have a few mysteries.
This time, it was her turn to yank out her key. Once the lock disengaged, Elle maneuvered herself so that her body stood between Zane and her open doorway.
That didn’t stop him from peering in. And then pushing inside. “Jesus. Someone’s ransacked your room. What did they take?”
Zane shoved her behind the towering wall of his body. His palm stayed wrapped around the jutting bone of her hip. The heat of his hand soaked through the suddenly cold material suctioned to her skin. A wave of awareness rolled through her.
It took her several seconds to register his words and see the room through his eyes.
“Nothing.” Elle batted his hand away, both for the liberation and as a reminder that she really didn’t want his hands on her. She didn’t.
“I was…looking for something before I went down to the bar.”
Zane turned to stare at her, genuine bafflement written all over his face. “What? The Hope Diamond? This place is a mess.”
Elle spun around slowly, taking in her toiletries spread out across the top of the antique dresser. The way her jewelry spilled out of the little pouch she kept it in, one of her favorite necklaces hanging half in and half out. Reaching over, she pushed it back inside. One of her shirts hung over the arm of a chair. Another rested in a heap on the floor beside it. Her silky half-length robe fluttered against the porcelain washbasin