Page 165 of Beat of Love
Her hair, a wild river of fire, tumbled over her shoulders, untamed and stunning. And even in those loose, beige flannel pajamas speckled with horseshoes — arguably the ugliest things he’d ever seen — he’d never laid eyes on anything more alluring.
His first instinct was to berate her for standing in front of a window, defenseless against an evil woman, but the only illumination came from outside, rendering visibility inside virtually nil.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, moving closer.
She lowered her mug and gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “You’ve showered.”
He grinned at the mild accusation in her tone. “Observant,” he said, removing the mug from her fingers.
“Hey. Get your own.”
Rafferty took a generous sip. And almost spewed out the coffee. He swallowed the vile concoction with a grimace. “Fuck, Red, how many sugars do you use?”
“Serves you right,” she muttered.
He placed the mug on the nearby coffee table and swiped a hand across his mouth. “Someone’s a little grouchy this morning.”
“Am not,” she grouched.
Fully facing her, he cupped the side of her face and used his thumbs to smooth out her pouty lips. “Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her.
She jerked away, scowling. “I haven’t brushed my teeth. And I need to pee.”
Taken aback by her sharp tone, he removed his hand and shifted away.“Have at it.”
She sashayed — no one sashayed quite like Brandy-Lyn — across the floor and into the bathroom, shutting the door with a decisive click.
A frown formed. Something had crawled up her pretty ass.Fuck. He hoped it wasn’t regret. Then again, it would be safer for her if she distanced herself from him.
Maybe sanity had sunk in overnight.
His insides spasmed at the idea of Brandy-Lyn backing out.
You’re a selfish bastard, Rafferty.
It would take her out of Kamila’s crosshairs.
You’ve no proof that Kamila’s here.
It’s all conjecture formed by your broken mind.
The water turned on in the bathroom. She was showering.
The vision of her stepping into the cubicle still steaming from his own shower teased his mind. He imagined her lifting her gorgeous face to the cascading water, wetting that mane of flaming hair and turning it dark copper. Water caressing allthat smooth, creamy white skin patterned with golden freckles, running over rosy nipples gracing breasts grown men wept over. Water streaming over hips made for loving, mingling with the trimmed patch of red hair sheltering her pussy, and flowing down legs honed by years of horseback riding.
His dick swelled, and Rafferty spun around with a grunt. The towel loosened, and he tore it away and flung it across the room. He grabbed a fresh pair of jeans, yanking them over his hips, cramming his penis none too gently in. “Misbehaving miscreant,” he muttered, pulling up the zipper.
He stalked to the coffee machine and shoved a pod in the slot. Thankfully, the hotel had doubled the supply of pods. He’d need more than one shot today. Coffee in hand, he took up the same position Brandy-Lyn had earlier and looked out the window, taking careful note of the surroundings. With the hotel situated on the edge of the business area of Clearbrook, it offered a view of the park leading down to the lake on the right, and a variety of shops to the left. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A couple of vehicles driving by. A few people clustered in the coffee shop waiting for their brew. A landscaping van offloading a crew of workers and equipment.
Just a small town waking up, preparing for another day.
Not a hint of evil hiding within the charmingly harmless picture.
The atmosphere in the room shifted.
Rafferty’s gaze drifted from the window to Brandy-Lyn as she stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She was once again clad in those godawful pajamas, her damp hair slicked back from her face. With hands planted on her hips and a thundercloud scowl in place, she marched straight toward him.
She looked madder than a wet hen.
