Chapter 9 #2
“Achy, but not bad.” He loved how husky her voice went and the soft expression on her face. It was an enticingly new picture of her.
“Good and ignore Peterson if he calls you back. They can direct their security inquiries through me.” For once, he didn’t mind the idea of being barricaded in his house. At least he had Kate to share it with.
“I’m your assistant,” she pointed out, dry humor in her smile.
“Not this weekend you’re not.” A fact for which he was profoundly grateful. “This weekend you’re my guest and I’m your host.”
“You realize that saying it doesn’t make it so.” Her resistance was back, her spirit seemed to have rebounded from the numb state of the painkillers and she appeared to be shedding the shock from the day before.
“Truth is found in perception. If you say a thing enough times, people will start to believe it.” He tossed down the verbal gauntlet.
“That’s a purely philosophical argument. I can say I’m your guest until we’re blue in the face, but come Monday morning we go back to the old labels.”
“Maybe,” he countered.
“What? If we get involved then you fire me?” Amusement filled her eyes. She didn’t believe him.
Not yet.
“Or maybe you quit—though I really hope you don’t.
I like working with you.” Oddly enough, he recognized a great deal of truth in that statement.
He’d worked with Miranda for years. They’d been a well-oiled machine, but at the end of the day, she went back to her life and Richard to his.
In the intervening weeks since her departure he hadn’t really missed her.
He’d miss Kate.
“You can’t have it both ways,” she argued and his grin grew.
“Why not?” After all, it was his job to be impossible. It said so in their contract.
They’d retreated indoors after lunch and, to his delight, Richard found out that not only did Kate know how to play video games—she was damn good at them.
Several rounds of Call of Duty put their debate on the backburner and he hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time.
When she’d excused herself to shower, he went out to fire up the grill and get the steaks ready to cook.
A night on the deck, under the stars, with some real food and maybe a glass or two of merlot—well, with her meds, maybe water but we’ll still have a good time. Stacking up the steaks neatly and wrapping the potatoes in foil, it occurred to him he’d been laughing all afternoon.
He’d relaxed.
His father, the shooting, the upcoming contract negotiations, his pending cases—they’d all gone on the backburner. He’d had fun. Grinning at the realization, he checked the bins in the fridge for tomatoes and lettuce. He could toss a salad after the steaks were grilled.
“Richard?” Her voice drifted down the stairs. He left the food on the counter and walked around the corner to look up.
“You okay?” He started to climb the steps, then paused when he realized she was only in a towel again. White cotton had never looked so good.
“I’m a little embarrassed, but otherwise fine.” She retreated a few steps. Her long hair hung damply down her back.
Continuing up the stairs, he kept his gaze on her face because he’d already gotten a glimpse of her legs and, while the towel covered a hell of a lot more than the swimsuit, it was only one tug away. “What’s up?”
Turning around, she showed him the bandage. “I can’t get it off. I think it’s the angle, but I wanted to change it.”
Understanding kicked his rising temperature down a notch and he motioned for her to precede him. “Got the rest of the stuff in your room?”
“Yeah, I can put it back on.”
“Don’t worry about it. This definitely falls under the I get to take care of you part of our quid pro quo.” A certain amount of satisfaction flowed through him because she’d asked him. Yes, she had tried to do it on her own, but when she needed help, she asked him.
So I help her change the bandage and then I go back down and fix dinner. It demonstrates I’m a good guy even when I’m impossible.
He followed her into the room and through it to the bathroom. The air was steamy from the shower. Vanilla and juniper filled his nostrils and it was liked being wrapped up in the warm, damp heat of her. The thought went straight to his groin and his cock stiffened uncomfortably.
“The stuff is here.” She tapped the fresh bandages and tape on the counter along with the antibiotic ointment they’d given her at the hospital.
Sucking in another lungful of her sweet, feminine scent, Richard forced himself to focus on the task at hand. “This might sting when I pull it off.”
“I’m all about ripping the Band-Aid off.” Tough and beautiful, she never failed to impress him. She resettled her stance and braced her good hand on the counter. “Do it.”
Wiping his palms against his shorts, he closed the distance between them. Her gaze met his in the still foggy mirror and Richard smiled. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
The corner of her mouth tilted. “I have wet, stringy hair and I’m wearing a towel. I hardly think that qualifies.”
“Oh.” He traced a finger across her shoulder and gathered up the wet mass to push it out of his way. “I think it more than qualifies. When you’re all glammed up, you’re stunning, but I think I like you like this best.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”
All of his blood went south at the word “bite” and he traced the base of her “creek-dogging” scar. It went down farther than he’d realized, all the way to the bottom of her shoulder blade. It must have been a hell of a cut.
“Warm, soft and damp from the shower?” He dipped his head, giving into temptation and pressed his lips to the flutter of her pulse. The catch of her breath encouraged him and he nibbled another soft kiss. She tasted sweet and her heart began to race, the erratic beat going crazy beneath his lips.
“Richard…” The strained note in her voice elongated the syllables in his name and he bit gently on her skin, sucked lightly and she swayed.
Closing his hand around her good shoulder, he held her steady and continued to kiss his way up to her jaw.
Kate’s head fell back and Richard sealed the last few inches between them so she could rest her head against his shoulder.
Her wet hair dampened his shirt, but he continued his leisurely exploration of her jaw.
The nibbling little touches brought his need to a fever pitch.
Tracing his fingers up her arm, he adored the softness of her skin and the supple muscles contracting under the contact.
She turned her head and her mouth parted.
He took the invitation, branding her into his blood, and savored the long, thorough exploration complete with teasing swipes of her tongue.
She moaned and the sound vibrated through him. Biting down on her lower lip, he held his hips still when her sweet bottom rubbed against his cock and every molecule in his body strained toward her. Sliding his hand to the nape of her neck, he held her and deepened the kiss further.
When she moaned again, he ripped off the bandage.
Her gasp came sharp and hot against his lips and he took another long thorough kiss before letting them both up for air. The golden glints in her wide eyes glimmered at him and a pink flush spread across her cheeks. But her mouth—God, her lips were slick and wet and swollen.
Nipping her lower lip, he whispered. “You need to look at the mirror again.”
“Why?” The dazed sound stroked his ego and his smile grew. She was not remotely immune to him. Good because his body practically screamed for hers.
“Because I need to check your stitches and put a fresh bandage on.” He held up the other one.
“I think I can really get behind this ripping the Band-Aid off method.” The flush on her cheeks spread and to his absolute delight, her ears went red.
The rise and fall of her breasts attracted his attention and he reached down and carefully pulled the towel back up.
“And you should hold this tighter.” He deserved a fucking medal for his restraint.
Disposing of the bandage, he gave her a moment to gather herself then checked her stitches.
It was an ugly mottling of black and blue, the skin held together by two tightly woven bits of surgical thread.
A bit swollen, but otherwise clean, he took gentle care in applying the ointment around, but not on the stitches before he added the clean bandage and tape.
Pressing a kiss to the top of her shoulder, he glanced up to meet the wide-open curiosity in her gaze via the mirror. “You good?”
“You’re amazing,” she whispered and his face heated at the quiet sincerity in her words. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Good.” He leaned down and rested his cheek against hers, a wave of possessiveness overtaking him.
“Because I feel the same way about you.” Instead of pulling away, she relaxed against him.
Something deep inside him eased at the show of trust. “You should get dressed. I’m going to cook you a fantastic dinner and we’re going to talk. ”
She stared at him steadily, then nodded. “Okay.”
“And, Kate?” He turned and pressed her lips against the side of her head. “The door on my side? It’s wide open. You think about it.”
He left her alone and headed back down the stairs. His cock would have a zipper imprint in it after that kiss, but, all seduction aside, he wanted the cool rational woman to want him every bit as much as her feminine soft and melting counterpart had in that bathroom.
She’d come alive in his arms and her kiss had turned fierce, as demanding and giving as his own. If he’d pushed it, they could be naked right now—of that he had no doubt.
Yes, he had her body, but he wanted her mind and that took a whole new level of seduction.
Whistling, he set the potatoes into the pre-heated oven and pulled out the salad fixings to chop and toss.