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She shifted carefully, and the room dissolved. She saw stars, and black spots, and excruciating pain streaked through her body, radiating from her knee. She gasped, panted, stiffened against it.
“Don’t move,” he said, holding out a hand, fingers splayed, though he didn’t touch her. He grinned, a sudden flash of white teeth, the firelight bright in his eyes. “I found you out in the snow. I feared . . . well, it doesn’t matter now. Your knee is injured, cut, and probably sprained, but it isn’t broken,” he said in a rush. He grinned again, as if that was all very good news, and dropped to one knee beside her. “You’ve got some color back.”
He reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his hand, a gentle enough caress, but she flinched away and gasped at the pain that caused. He dropped his hand at once, looked apologetic. “I mean no harm, lass—I was just checking that you’re warm, but not too warm. Or too cold . . .” He was babbling, and he broke off, gave her a wan smile, and stood up again, holding onto her cloak, taking a step back away from her. Was he blushing, or was it the light of the fire on his skin? She tried not to stare at the breadth of his naked chest, or the naked legs that showed beneath the trailing edge of the cloak.
She gingerly reached down under the covers and found her knee was bound up in a bandage of some sort. He turned away, flushing again, and she realized the plaid had slipped down. She was as naked as he was. She gasped, drew the blanket tight to her chin, and stared at him. She looked up and saw that her clothes were hanging on a line above the fireplace—all of them, even her shift.
“Where—?” she swallowed. Her voice was hoarse, her throat as ra
w as her knee. “Who are you?” she tried again. She felt hot blood fill her cheeks, and panic formed a tight knot in her chest, and she tried again to remember what had happened, but her mind was blank. If he was—unclothed, and she was equally unclothed—
“What—” she began again, then swallowed the question she couldn’t frame. She hardly knew what to ask first, Where, Who, or What? Her mind was moving slowly, her thoughts as thick and rusty as her tongue.
“You’re safe, lass,” he said, and she wondered if she was. She stared at him. She’d seen men working in the summer sun, their shirts off, their bodies tanned, their muscles straining, but she’d never thought anything of it. This—he—was different. And she was as naked as he was.
An Excerpt from
RUNNING HOT
A Bad Boys Undercover Novella
by HelenKay Dimon
Ward Bennett and Tasha Gregory aren’t on the same team. But while hunting a dictator on the run, these two must decide whether they can trust one another—and their ability to stay professional. Working together might just make everyone safer, but getting cozy . . . might just get them killed.
“TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF.”
He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Excuse me?”
“You’re attracted to me.” Good Lord, now Tasha was waving her hands in the air. Once she realized it, she stopped. Curled her hands into balls at her sides. “I find you . . . fine.”
Ward covered his mouth and produced a fake cough. She assumed it hid a smile. That was almost enough to make her rescind the offer.
“Really? That’s all you can muster?” This time he did smile. “You think I’m fine?”
He was hot and tall and had a face that played in her head long after she closed her eyes each night. And that body. Long and lean, with the stalk of a predator. Ward was a man who protected and fought. She got the impression he wrestled demons that had to do with reconciling chivalry and decency with the work they performed.
The combination of all that made her wild with need. “Your clothes are still on.”
“Are you saying you want to—”
Since he was saying the sentence so slowly—emphasizing, and halting after, each word—she finished it fast. “Shag.”
Both eyebrows rose now. “Please tell me that’s British for ‘have sex.’ ”
“Yes.”
He blew out a long, staggered breath. “Thank God, because right now my body is in a race to see what will explode first, my brain or my dick.”
Uh? “Is that a compliment?”
“Believe it or not, yes.” Two steps, and he was in front of her, his fingers playing with the small white button at the top of her slim tee. “So, are you talking about now or sometime in the future to celebrate ending Tigana?”
Both. “I need to work off this extra energy and get back in control.” She was half-ready to rip off her clothes and throw him on the mattress.
Maybe he knew because he just stood there and stared at her, his gaze not leaving her face.
She stared back.
