Page 112 of Extreme Danger

She reached out across the bed, found it empty. Her eyes popped open, searching for him.

There he was. And how. He sat cross-legged on the rumpled sheets of the other bed, from which he’d stripped the covers. Not a stitch of clothing. He contemplated a large screen laptop. The screen illuminated his somber face with an eerie glow. The room was dim, lit only by the sunlight that glowed around the borders of the blackout curtains.

In the gloom, Nick looked like a naked space-age monk deep in meditation, with that supernatural focus in his eyes. His concentration was laser sharp, slicing through whatever he saw. Including herself.

His pose was outwardly relaxed, but the profound stillness of his body gave her the sense that he could explode into movement in a fraction of an instant. Explosive, volcanic emotions, hidden behind his steely façade, under constant, relentless pressure.

He was so beautiful. It was outrageous. Every detail, those smoldering dark eyes beneath the thick, straight black brows that winged straight back, the hard, sealed mouth, the sharp cliff of his cheekbones. The bumpy terrain of his nose. And his body, all that hard, slabbed, ripped complexity of his heavy musculature. He was so lean, every muscle, every tendon visible, ready and willing to do its job. Not a speck of pinchable fat on him. Which was hardly surprising, since he forgot to eat for days at a time.

Speaking of which. She was startled to realize that she’d done the same thing. Her last chance to eat had been lunchtime the day before, and she’d sacrificed that opportunity to go to the mall and buy slut lingerie. Not that she regretted it, but still. She was ravenous.

And not just for food, either. She’d developed a host of other appetites. She wanted to grab and stroke and caress every inch of that man’s succulent, sinewy body. But she’d probably have to tie him down with rope to get the chance, he was so sexually aggressive.

Tying him. Hmm. The idea had merit. She started to grin. Ten to one, he wouldn’t go for it, control freak that he was, but the resulting argument would be, well, stimulating. And the final outcome would be a lot of fun. She squirmed, just imagining it.

Nick sensed the intensity of her gaze and glanced over, giving her a slow smile that made a string of inner firecrackers detonate inside her. Heat, sparks, colors. Excitement, confusion, fear.

And joy. Of all things to find, in the midst of this mess. Blooming out of the wreckage of her life, like a perfect tulip in a trash heap.

“Hi,” she whispered, blushing. Remembering just how many times he’d wakened her in the night, to start again. And again.

He just nodded, studying her intently. She became suddenly aware of how she must look, with wild bed head, puffy morning face, smeared makeup. A Picasso woman, with nose and mouth and eyes all scrambled up. And even so, he had that look in his eyes about which there could be no mistake. She looked away, flustered, and her eyes fell on the digital clock on the bedstand. 12:24 PM.

Panic jangled through her, and hard on its heels, disorientation. She sought to anchor herself in this new world.

Cool it. No reason to sweat. She’d been canned. No job to be late for, no responsibilities she was neglecting, no place to go, no one who was waiting for her angrily, tapping a foot, looking at a watch.

It made her feel so lost. Adrift in nowhere. She had Carrie and Josh, of course, but she was desperately hoping to keep them at arm’s length until she managed to resolve this situation. God alone knew how.

Every other point of reference in her life was gone. Except for Nick. He was a big one. Right now, he was her only one.

A dangerous state of affairs, for both of them. She must not glom onto this guy, make him her reason to exist. The danger was there. As sexy and charismatic as he was, as scared and vulnerable as she felt.

As madly in love with him as she was.

She thought of that bad moment last night, when she’d practically blurted it out. And stopped herself, with the grace and subtlety of a stampeding elephant. It was just that she was so terrified of destroying this thing before it even unfolded, before she was even sure what it was. The way she’d somehow managed to destroy all her other relationships.

Nick was so much more important than any of the others. All the more reason not to trash it by opening her big mouth too soon. Scaring him off with inappropriate demands, inconvenient emotions.

She stared at his sexy dimples. “It’s late,” she offered.

“You were tired,” he said. “Me too. I slept more than I have in the last two months combined. Hours on end.” He sounded faintly amazed as he tapped a few keys, snapped the laptop shut and slid off the bed.

Stood there before her, showing off. Inviting her to gape at his gorgeous bod. “I’m glad you’re awake,” he said. “I missed you.”

She smothered a giggle. “Don’t even look at me that way until I’ve had a shower.”

“I don’t care,” he said. His penis lengthened before her eyes.

“I do,” she said, scrambling out of the far side of the bed. She backed up towards the bathroom, shimmying out of the garter belt. “Plus, I’m ravenous. Don’t even think about it. You sex freak.”

He stared at her body, looking wistful. “Get your shower,” he said. “We’ve got to get moving if we want time to grab something to eat.”

She teetered on one leg to peel a stocking off. “What? What’s our hurry? Where are we going?”

He looked embarrassed, and uncomfortable. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said. “I don’t believe it myself.”

“Just tell me,” she snapped.

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