Page 4 of Silent Night Sins
The broken glass. And she was standing next to the carnage on bare feet.
The sight of those pretty toes, painted a shade of deep crimson, sent a rush of something foreign through me. I hoisted her onto the counter without thinking.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promised. “Where is everyone else?”
She rolled her eyes again. More words hummed from her throat.
I lowered my hand. “What was that, beautiful?”
“I said, they’re not fucking here,” she snapped.
Such a dirty mouth. With such pretty, rosy lips.
A spark of heat shot straight from my palm, resting on her thigh, to my dick.
“Your father’s not home?” I tried to focus on the business at hand, but this little temptress was proving to be quite a distraction.
“In Washington,” she muttered, and then added, “DC, not the state.”
Cavolo!
We had it all wrong. This wasn’t the opportunity to bring down the fearsome attorney who’d been a thorn in our side. It was going to take weeks before another opportunity presented itself.
Meanwhile…what to do withher.
“No one else is here?” I demanded, squeezing her thigh.
Fuck if she didn’t feel so fucking good under my hand. It was a fight not to slide my hand up her thigh, cup her firm ass. When such a delicious present sat basically in my lap, it would take a saint not to steal a taste. And I was not a holy man.
“It’s just me,” she said, and her voice sounded defeated.
Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge of protectiveness. She wasn’t just the stunning woman sitting on the counter in front of me. She was also the chubby cherub who used to chase me around the park while our fathers held court. The curls might be gone and that full face carved by the hard lines of life, but she was still the girl who’d smiled at me once upon a time.
Madonna santa, what I wouldn’t give for her to smile at me now.
Not that she knew who I was, with this black fabric concealing me. Even if I pulled the balaclava from my face, would she remember?
We’re not going to find out.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” I rumbled. “No one here to protect you.”
“I don’t need anyone,” she said hotly. Her fist snaked out. To her credit, she threw a damn fine punch.
One I easily dodged.
I tsked. “Now, now, angel, let’s not resort to violence.”
“Says the psycho standing in my kitchen!” she retorted. Her vibrant blue eyes flashed.
Chuckling, I tapped her leg and took a step back. I didn’t miss the way her body shivered. Or that her nipples strained against the thin tank top she wore. I grabbed some paper towels, bent, and began to wipe the shattered glass and spilt wine.
“Can’t have you cutting those pretty toes,” I explained, feeling her confused gaze on me.
Maybe there was a way to convince her not to tell her dad about the break-in. While I racked my brains for a solution, I could buy time by proving I wasn’t a threat…to her.
I did a second sweep, this time with a damp towel. As I bent low to check for shards, the beauty leapt off the counter. She landed on my shoulder and back, shoving me hard to the ground.
A bellow ripped from my chest.
