Page 41 of Cursed
She wanted to turn, but he held her where she was, her body arched, her pulse pounding.
“Did you see the picture of the woman with the bowl of apples?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Another good one.” He brought his hands inward, cupping and lifting her breasts. Looking down, she saw the nipples standing out through her shirt. She knew he saw that, too, because he stroked his fingers back and forth over those aching tips.
She made a small, needy sound, asking for more. And he took his cue from her, slipping his hands under her top and stroking her through the silky fabric of her bra while he brought his mouth back to the side of her face, her ear.
“Let me turn around,” she whispered.
“Don’t you like this?”
“You know I do,” she managed, then tried to change the subject. “What are you hiding from me?”
“Not this,” he answered, pressing his erection against her bottom.
When she pressed back against him, she was rewarded by his quick indrawn breath.
He loosened his hold, and she was about to turn, when a throat-clearing sound behind them made them both jump.
“I … surely beg your … your pardon,” Janet stammered.
“What do you want?” Andre growled, his tone sharp as his hands dropped to his sides, and she was glad he was standing behind her, both of them with their backs to the door.
Janet spoke again. “I came to tell you two men have brought the car back. They want you to pay them. And they want to clear out as soon as possible.”
“I’ll be right there,” Andre muttered.
“No. I’ll do it,” Morgan managed, closing the book. Mercifully, Janet withdrew.
Morgan took a couple of deep breaths. She had told herself she was not going to get physically involved with Andre again. But all he’d had to do was sneak up behind her and start kissing her ear, and she’d been back in the same trap she’d been helpless to avoid before.
As she walked toward the front of the house, she straightened the front of her shirt. Andre followed her. Because she was angry with herself—and with him—she snapped, “Why did you destroy evidence outside last night?”
“Give me a clue. Evidence of what?”
She stopped and gave him a direct look. “I saw that jaguar in the garden. When I went out to find his tracks,” they were gone from the spot where he’d been standing. “You raked the area. I had to walk in a big circle to pick up his trail again.”
Andre’s features registered astonishment. “I didn’t rake anything.”
She stared at his face, trying to judge whether he was telling the truth or lying through his teeth. He looked genuinely shocked.
“If not you, then who?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, and this time she wasn’t so sure he was telling the truth.
“Do you have a rake—besides the one that’s locked in your shed?”
“No. But somebody could have brought one,” he added.
“Who?”
He only shrugged.
“Did you take away those cigarette butts I found?”
“No!”
