Page 51 of Preying Game

Bits and pieces of other scenes flashed by. What looked like a newscast. A cartoon. A drama. Then a scene of a man and a woman in a tight clinch. They were kissing hotly, and the man reached for the zipper at the back of her dress.

Jonah clicked it off. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I think it’s a suggestion.”

“Of what?”

“What we both want to do.”

“Alice. . . .”

Sensing that he wasn’t going to push her into anything, she reached for him and pulled him close.

He said her name again, his voice full of longing.

“Don’t step away from me because you think it’s the right thing to do,” she whispered.

“It is. You’ve been through a horrible ordeal. You just got here. I could be taking advantage of you.”

“Of course not. I want to be as close to you as I can get.”

Cupping the back of his hair, she brought his head down. He moved his lips against hers, and she opened for him, reveling in the intimate contact. Accepting the invitation, his tongue played with the line of her teeth and the sensitive tissue just beyond her lips.

That simple contact sent currents of heat coursing through her. And when he lifted his head, they were both breathing hard.

His hands stroked up and down her back. “Have you . . . made love before?” he asked.

“Are you asking because I seem . . .” she fumbled for a phrase and came up with, “Wet behind the ears?”

“No. I’m making assumptions because of . . . when you come from. You were probably taught—good girls don’t.”

Rachel had made the same assumptions. Alice dragged in a breath and let it out. “You’re right. My parents were pretty strict with us. I haven’t gone all the way before. But I want to—with you.”

“Why?”

“You saved my life.”

“And you want to thank me.”

“No, I want to finish what we started. She stopped talking and said the last part silently. I mean, we were so close. In each other’s minds. It was unique. And wonderful. And being in your arms is another kind of wonderful.

She felt him shudder. On Lord, Alice.

I think it’s going to work out, she said, putting as much conviction as she could muster into the assertion.

When she lifted her face again, he brought his lips back to hers for a kiss that was both hungry and gentle.

They stood kissing and swaying in the middle of the room, and she felt as if the apartment was whirling around her.

“You’re making my head spin,” she murmured, speaking aloud against his lips.

“Mine too.”

“Can we lie down?”

“You mean sit down?”

“I think your bed is probably more comfortable than your couch—for anything major.”

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