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“Christ.” He lowered his head and focused on the one stair step between them. “Because I would be seeing you every day, but having to keep my hands off you.” He looked up at her from beneath his brows and spoke from the heart. “And I don’t think I can do that.”
The silence between them stretched out, and, correspondingly, the sexual yearning she felt low and deep continued to tug at her until she took the next step down. Which was all the urging he needed.
He curved his arm around her waist and pulled her against him as their mouths sought each other. Last night’s kiss had stunned her. She’d had no time to think, to react, before it was over. However, for all its brevity, it had left her shaken, breathless, and irrationally aroused.
Throughout the day, she’d caught herself analyzing that kiss, the manly spontaneity that had sparked it, the bold lustiness of it, and its startling, erotic effect on her.
But all her analyses had left her no better prepared for this kiss. She might have invited it, but he immediately took charge of it. Taking unrestricted possession of her mouth, he slid his tongue along hers. She responded with an involuntary, shivery movement of her breasts against his chest.
A low growl emanated from his throat. His hands grazed the sides of her breasts before coasting down her rib cage to bracket her hips. His fingers tensed, pressing into the curve of her bottom and holding her still as he pressed against the notch of her thighs.
But only long enough for her to respond with a subtle grinding motion against him, and then he retreated and brought his hands up to her face. He cradled it between his palms as he broke the kiss. His eyes moved over each of her features and then stayed intent on her lips. He brushed her hair off one cheek, then rested his scruffy one against it and spoke, feverishly and roughly, directly into her ear.
“I want to be skin to skin with you. So bad it’s killing me.” His kept his lips there for seconds more, his breath unsteady and hot. Then he aligned his forehead with hers. “But I can’t, Arden.” Lightly, he bumped his forehead against hers as he repeated it. “I can’t.”
He released her, turned and walked away, through the kitchen and out the back door. It was the click of that blasted lock that spurred her. She hurdled the bottom step and dashed toward the kitchen. She undid the lock and flung open the back door, then charged after him.
“Wait a minute!”
He stopped and turned. She didn’t slow down until she came to a dead stop no more than a foot in front of him. “I won’t keep doing this. No more good night kisses.”
He raised one shoulder in a negligent manner that made her want to smack the scratchy cheek that minutes ago had been nuzzling hers.
He said, “I can’t keep doing it. You won’t keep doing it. Problem solved if you would pack up and leave tomorrow.” He motioned toward the house with his chin. “But for tonight, get back inside and lock the door.”
“Go to hell and take your damn locks with you.”
“I don’t know what you’re mad about. I could’ve carried you into that nun’s cell of sleeping quarters you’ve got, and we’d be hard at it by now. Hell, I could’ve had you on the staircase. By leaving, I was trying to do the right thing. You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you? For using me to get a cheap thrill, to cheat on your girlfriend, make her jealous, whatever? No. But I do have something to thank you for.”
She flung her hand toward the house. “You opened my eyes about the house. Build it up, tear it down, the mysteries will still be there. Like freaking ghosts. But I’m going to rid myself of them.”
She pulled herself up straighter. “Your services won’t be needed after all, Mr. Burnet. The house will stay as is, indefinitely, while I look for answers somewhere else.”
She turned.
“Arden, wait. Stop. Will you wait a goddamn minute?” he shouted. “What do you mean you’ll look for answers somewhere else?”
She kept walking, went inside, and slammed the door behind her, taking great pleasure in locking him out with the hardware he’d provided.
Chapter 19
Ledge knocked. “It’s me.”
Seconds later, Crys
tal opened her front door and greeted him with a smile. “Well, you’ve made yourself scarce lately. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“Where’s Marty?”
“Working the three-to-eleven shift.”
She stepped aside, and he went in, saying, “Don’t bet on it being a pleasure to see me.”
“You’re in a mood?”
“And then some.”
