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I roll over. My hard-as-nails nipples drag across the blanket, and I can’t help but moan. I bite my lip and swallow the sound, but there’s no getting around the fact I’m wound unbearably tight. The need coiled between my legs keeps clenching and throbbing. I can barely remember the last time I had sex. It wasn’t memorable.
Or maybe I only feel that way because I’m fixated on Rand.
I need relief—now.
I tell myself I shouldn’t…but I cup my breasts and squeeze. Excitement flares. My fingers slide over my sensitive flesh until I’m pinching the tight nubs.
It isn’t enough.
I focus on my nipples through the thin cotton, grasping harder. Pleasure jolts straight to my clit. I gasp, then bite back the sound and squeeze again.
Everything between my legs demands attention, so I slide one palm over my skin, down my abdomen, and inside the tighter-than-hell shorts. I’m beyond wet, and when I press a pair of fingers against my needy nub, desire shoots through my veins. I arch into the sensation. This time, there’s no stopping my moan.
One hand rubs, the other clutches. Everything sharpens. My blood boils. The ecstasy is so thick I’m in a haze. I want orgasm. Ineedorgasm.
It comes fast and hot with deep pants and helpless moans. But my relief is short-lived. A killer is still after me. Rand is in the next room. And my body isn’t at all satisfied. It keeps pulsing, my thoughts on a nonstop loop of Rand toeing off his boots, peeling off his shirt, then joining me on the bed as he works his jeans open, spreads me wide, and impales me deep.
Damn, I need to stop panting for him and start considering my next moves.
A soft knock has me scrambling.
I drag the sheet over my body and tuck it under my neck. “Yes?”
Slowly, the door opens. Rand fills the opening, standing almost as tall, shoulders almost as wide. “You okay?”
“Of course.” But I’m not. I’m sure I look guilty as sin.
His expression tells me he knows exactly what I was up to.
“David called. I let it go to voicemail. I wanted to talk to you again before I decide how or if I should respond.”
“Give me a minute to”—stop aching for you—“get up. I’ll meet you in the living room.”
“Sure.” He ducks out and shuts the door.
I let out a breath. Damn it, my self-inflicted orgasm only made me crave him more. And we’ll be here together—alone—for who knows how long.
I’m in deep trouble.
With a sigh, I shrug into the gray sweater I’d peeled off earlier and stretch.
How am I going to face Rand?
Buck up and brazen it out, sister.
I pad down the hall and find him prowling the living room. When I enter, he stops and turns to me. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”
No way am I asking how he knows that. “No. What did David say?”
“He wants to know if you’re all right and where you are. He’s fielding questions from the press and he doesn’t know how to answer.”
Rand is asking me if I’m willing to risk my life on my hunch that David doesn’t want me dead. I am. My gut tells me David would never harm me. Hell, he cried for days when he and Allen had to put their cat down a few months back. He’s a gentle soul…except when it comes to fame and fortune. Still, I’m convinced he wouldn’t kill someone for it. Claw, punch, lie, cheat, and steal? Absolutely.
“I admit David is ruthless, but he’s not violent. I trust him.”
“Then we have to be strategic. Whatever we tell David will be what the public—and your shooter—knows.”
Rand is right. “Maybe we shouldn’t answer. I don’t want to hurt your reputation as a bodyguard—”
