Lori Foster (12 page)

She glanced up at him, her face clean of makeup, the blue of her eyes looking deeper in the low light, her lashes leaving shadows on her smooth cheeks. “I’ll be careful, Rowdy, I promise.”

That wasn’t what worried him.

“Relax.” With that said, she hooked both hands in his waistband and tugged down his jeans—which brought her face so close that he imagined he could feel her breath through his boxers.

Pretending she didn’t see his erection, she went to a knee and finished dragging the denim down to his ankles. “Step out.”

What the hell. If she could take it, so could he. He put a hand on the top of her head and did as told.

Avery folded the jeans. “You can sit down on the side of the bed so I can get your shirt off.”

Better if she’d just get
him
off. It wouldn’t take much. Seeing her on her knees had almost done it.

Wearing only the snug boxers and a borrowed T-shirt, Rowdy sat.

After putting his jeans on the dresser, Avery climbed onto the bed behind him. He
felt
her there, so close and so utterly still.

Without warning, her fingers gently tunneled into his hair. “Is your sister as blond as you?”

The mesmerizing way she touched him wasn’t carnal, and maybe that’s why it affected him so strongly. It felt like...affection.

He wasn’t used to it.

He knotted his hands in the blankets. “Pepper’s hair is lighter, and a hell of a lot longer.”

“Is it as thick as yours? As wavy?”

He could feel her breath on the back of his neck.
“Hell, I don’t know.” He twisted to look at her over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

When she shrugged, the neckline of the shirt slid down. Not far enough for him to see her breast but close enough that his heart almost punched out of his chest.

He did not react this way to women, damn it.

Avery smoothed down his hair and said on a sigh, “You’re pretty irresistible, that’s all.” Leaning forward, she got hold of the hem of the shirt. “I’m going to be really careful. Let me lift up the shirt and then we can work each arm out, okay?”

It took an excruciating amount of time for Avery to do what he could have accomplished in five seconds. Never in his life would he have allowed a woman to “handle him,” but it was kind of nice the way Avery did it. Once freed, she tossed the shirt to the dresser to join the jeans.

A moment later, she breathed, “Oh, Rowdy.”

He imagined a lot of bruising had formed around the cut. “It’s okay, honey.”

Her fingertips moved lightly over his skin. “No, it’s not.” In a butterfly touch, she brushed her lips to one spot, then another.

Rowdy felt each small kiss in his dick. In a gravelly rumble, he promised, “Before long, it’ll be healed up and forgotten.”

Silence dragged out as she touched him again, on his shoulder, lower on his back. “Like the rest of these?”

Tension wound through his spine, making him stiff all over.

Her tone far too sad, Avery said, “Now I know what the doctor meant.”

Shit.
Scars.
Moving away from her hands and that damn unnerving empathy, Rowdy stood and turned so all she saw was his chest.

And his boner beneath the boxers. He could handle her seeing that, but he couldn’t handle her seeing any vulnerability.

“You ready to turn in?” He pulled the blankets back farther and eased down to his side. He hated that he had to move so slowly, but even a wiggle of his toe was felt in his back.

“Yes.” Still on her knees, she drew in a deep breath. “I’m ready.” In a unique but innocent sort of torture, she stretched beyond him, her body over his as she turned out the lamp. She settled back in front of him, resting on one elbow.

Moonlight shone through the high windows, leaving her body outlined in a mellow glow, turning the fall of her hair into a muted fire.

Could a woman be more physically appealing?

“What would be most comfortable for you?” Before he could answer, Avery turned, giving him her back, then scooted closer. “Will this work?”

Hell, yeah. That worked just fine. He put an arm around her and snuggled her in, his hand open on her belly, his hips nestled up against her ass. “Perfect.”

“Rowdy.” He heard her smile when she chastised him. “You won’t be able to sleep with me this close.”

“Told you I’m an insomniac, so I’m used to not sleeping. But for once I won’t mind being awake.”

She hesitated before saying, “Okay, then,” and wiggled to get more comfortable.

Excruciating.

Laying a hand over his, she let out a long yawn and whispered, “Good night, Rowdy.”

It would be a long night, but just as well that he wouldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to waste a single second of having her like this, with him, in his apartment, in his bed and in his arms.

Maybe it was the turmoil of the day, the dredging up of old hurts and twisted memories, but damn it, he even considered having her in his life...for more than a one-night stand.

* * *

W
HEN
THE
LIGHT
went out, he decided to give up his vigil for the night. The big windows should have afforded a decent view, and despite himself, he’d anticipated playing voyeur. But the bed wasn’t positioned correctly, so while he could occasionally see a body move past, he hadn’t seen enough to make it worth the danger in the area.

He felt cheated, damn it.

Maybe once he had Avery back where she belonged, he’d think about the whole voyeur fetish again. For all his trouble, he deserved that—and more.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A
VERY
FELT
THE
drowsiness pull at her, but she didn’t quite tumble into slumber. Without even realizing it, she stroked her fingertips over the back of Rowdy’s hand that rested on her stomach. Fingers opened, he covered her from hip bone to hip bone.

Such a large man, so solid and strong, and so amazing.

What he’d done today, the compassion he’d felt for Marcus, the outrage he’d shown against abuse...

She closed her eyes, seeing again those awful scars on his back. A small burn, round like a cigarette. A square cut, like that from a belt buckle.

Outrage blurred her vision, made her eyes glisten and tried to close her throat. If she could, she’d find his parents and destroy them. Unfortunately, they’d escaped any real retribution by dying a quick death in a car wreck.

Angst squeezed her heart until she had to fight the urge to turn to Rowdy, to hold him close and cry for him since he would never cry for himself.

Little by little, she better understood him and how he ticked. Sex, as he’d said, was quick and easy comfort.

But, God, she wanted to be more than that to him. She wanted to somehow make his life better. Not that Rowdy couldn’t manage that on his own. Single-handedly, he’d protected his sister, built a safe life for them both and once his sister’s future was secured, he’d taken over a profligate business and made it not only reputable, but profitable and popular, as well.

She thought of his inventive solution to tone down Ella’s over-the-top sensual wardrobe, how he always lent a hand to Jones, the cook.

How he made his desire for her plain without ever trying to force the issue. He was only at his pushiest when trying to protect her. Even as his breathing evened into sleep, he kept her close.

Slowly, she turned to her back. Rowdy’s hand just naturally slid to her hip. He made a small sound, shifted a little and sank back into oblivion.

It appeared exhaustion had finally claimed him. She was so glad. His warm breath and the weight of his muscled arm crossing her body tried to lull her to sleep, too, but her mind continued to churn. With everything that had happened, she’d almost forgotten about the phone call.

Now the possible ramifications of it came crashing back over her. She had reason to worry.

But no way would she burden Rowdy with her problems, not when he’d already spent his life dealing with so much. Maybe she could talk to Logan or Reese without Rowdy knowing.

She turned her head to look at him. So sinfully gorgeous, he took her breath away. Even dead to the world, he didn’t look entirely relaxed.

Was Fisher Holloway after her? Again?

She couldn’t make any other assumption, not after the way their last confrontation had ended—a circumstance that had sent her, literally, packing. She’d been away from home ever since. At first, she’d missed her mother, her old life, the convenience of financial security.

Now... Well, she still missed her mom sometimes, but she’d resigned herself to how their relationship had changed. She’d gotten used to everything else and she didn’t really want to return. Ever.

An hour later, Rowdy made a low sound that was part anger, part agony. Alarmed, Avery touched his shoulder hoping to soothe him. His breathing came faster; he shifted again. Was it his back? Should she wake him for more aspirin?

She had just started to sit up when suddenly he clutched at her, dragging her tight to his chest in a hold filled with desperation.

Making shushing sounds, Avery kissed his throat, his chest and shoulder.

He eased, his grip relaxing as he again faded away.

“I’m here,” she whispered, and because she couldn’t help herself, she kissed his throat again. His weakness—something he’d hide if he was awake—drew her in. She felt so many things: emotionally protective of the boy he’d once been, devastated that he still suffered nightmares, awed by his strength of character and, against all odds, the man he’d become.

She also felt a little turned on.

What woman wouldn’t be? Rowdy wasn’t hard now, but they faced each other in bed, as close as two people could be without actual intercourse, so her awareness of him—all of him—rose to a keen level. He’d hugged her up to his lightly furred chest so that with every breath his delicious scent filled her head. One of his thighs now rested between hers, pinning her in place, yet somehow making her feel cherished instead of trapped.

Fisher was the last man to touch her like that, and her reaction hadn’t been the same.

But then, that time with Fisher hadn’t been by choice.

Physically, Fisher Holloway was attractive enough. Just shy of six feet, thick brown hair, shrewd blue eyes, built like an athlete... The memory of his heavy body, his unyielding strength, sent a shudder through her.

She tucked her face closer to Rowdy’s chest.

To those who knew Fisher, he was a thirty-four-year-old CEO of a very successful company. A philanthropist who supported many charities. A financial guru generous with those he employed. Her stepfather respected him; her mother adored him. They ran in the same circles, often attending the same affairs.

Everyone thought he’d make the ideal husband for Avery.

Everyone except Avery herself. Whenever they were alone, Fisher was too condescending: ordering her food, critiquing her wardrobe, disdaining her friends.

Her stepfather said he was invested in her well-being.

Her mother said he was attentive to her needs.

Avery hadn’t liked it one bit. During a fundraiser, when Fisher persisted in pursuing her, she’d made her disinterest clear.

God, he’d been so cunning, setting her up for the greatest fall of her life...

She jumped when Rowdy’s hand went to her backside, squeezing for a minute before going limp again. Wow, even in his sleep he stayed revved up. Or was he playing possum?

Avery no sooner had the thought than Rowdy started a soft snore. She smiled, as much at herself as at the sound he made.

Looked like she’d be the one with insomnia that night. But she didn’t mind. It gave her more time to enjoy Rowdy without the risk of him realizing the truth—that she’d already gone head over heels for him.

If he knew she’d started falling in love with him almost from the start, what would he do?

Given his track record with women, she didn’t want to find out.

* * *

R
OWDY
WOKE
DISORIENTED
, his brain sluggish, his limbs utterly lax. Sunlight spilled through the tall wall of windows, making him squint. It took him a second to realize that he’d slept like the dead.

Jesus, he never passed out like that. All kinds of shit could have happened without him knowing it. A little alarmed, he rose up on an elbow. The discomfort in his back would have taken precedence—except that he found Avery right there, her head propped on a fist, her tumbled red hair spilling all over the bed, her blue eyes lazy with interest as she watched him.

She said, all husky and sexual-like, “Good morning.”

That particular expression of hers was too damn soft, almost dreamy. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Her gaze went to his mouth, then back up to his eyes. “Because I realized last night I’m a pervert.”

Whoa. Rowdy made a show of lifting the sheet and looking down at himself.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking that my boxers are still in place.”

Her teasing laugh went over him like a slow lick. “Did you think I took advantage of you without you waking?”

“I was half hoping.” Something was different this morning. While he’d been dead to the world, she’d come to some conclusions. Now if only he could keep that progress going when awake. “Obviously you didn’t have your way with me, so what perverted things did you do?”

“I checked out your body.”

“You’ve done that before, babe. I know because I’ve seen you doing it.”

“This time, I didn’t hurry or try to be subtle. I just soaked up the breathtaking sight of you.”

Breathtaking? He tried not to feel self-conscious with the over-the-top compliment. “Anytime you want a repeat showing, let me know.”

“I also enjoyed hearing you snore.”

He snorted. “I don’t.”

She leaned in. “You do.” She kissed his chin. “And it was sexy.”

Had he awakened into a new dimension? Was he still dreaming? Whatever it was, he liked it, so he nodded and agreed, “That is a little perverted.”

The way she smiled was something he hadn’t seen from her before. “I loved watching you sleep.” She smoothed his hair off his brow, her touch a little too mothering for comfort. “I’m glad you could.”

He frowned. “I never sleep.”

“Well, you did last night.”

And she planned to take credit for that? Maybe she had reason. He only just now realized that he had one leg between her soft, slender thighs, their pelvises aligned.

He needed to clear out the cobwebs, and fast.

With a hand at her waist to keep her right there, he gave in to suspicion. “You stayed here?” He remembered getting comfortable, being turned on...then nothing after that. “All night?”

“Yes.” Her hand went from his hair to the side of his neck, then down over his chest. “Snuggled close.”

And he’d missed it.
Damn it.

“You look cross.” Her heavy eyes shied away. “Did I overstay my welcome?”

“No.”
I’m glad you’re here.
He looked beyond her at the clock. Still early, thank God. “We have a lot to talk about today.”

“Marcus.”

Rowdy nodded, but he didn’t go there just yet. His brain was, for a change, blessedly relaxed. He wanted to keep it that way for a while longer. “And Cannon, your car, that phone call.”

Her gaze shot up to his. She withdrew her hand, but said only, “What about Cannon?”

Evasive? Now what was that about? For the moment, Rowdy chose to play along. “Depending on how things went last night, he might be staying on.”

“To do what?”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we?” He deliberately included her in the decision.

As he’d hoped, she relaxed again. “So what are you thinking?”

It was kind of nice, lying in bed in the morning and talking with Avery. It’d be better if she lost the shirt and panties, and if he knew this was a prelude to sex, but even so, he still enjoyed it.

Like a good night’s sleep, enjoying morning-after banter was not the norm. “Among other things, maybe he could give you a break every so often.”

“You give me breaks.”

Without makeup, her face bathed in harsh sunlight, she still looked so damned pretty that he had to fight the urge to reach for her. “I want to spend some time with you when we both aren’t on the clock.”

“Oh.” Her tentative smile could melt a man. “I’d like that, too.”

No woman had a right to be so appealing first thing in the morning. Even her tangled hair looked sexy as hell. “When you’re working, Cannon could help out in other ways.”

“You know I don’t want a barback.”

She’d just have to get over that. “Yesterday, seeing you manhandled by that—”

“He didn’t hurt me,” she rushed to say.

Rowdy lifted her wrist, looking at a small bruise that had been left behind. He kissed the mark, then kept her hand close. “Thank God Ella had the good sense to come and get me.” Even if he hadn’t been personally interested in her, as his employee, Rowdy was accountable for her safety. “I’ll feel better knowing a bouncer is nearby, someone I trust to defend you in case I’m not close enough to protect you myself.”

“I don’t want to be another of your many responsibilities.”

She already felt like the most important one. “I’m the boss, so I get to make the rules.” To soften that, he added, “Look at it this way. If Cannon works out, he can do the heavy lifting, fetch stuff when you need it, even answer the phone so you don’t have to.”

At the mention of the phone, her gaze darted away again. “I guess that would be nice.”

Ah, so it was the phone call that made her jumpy. Rowdy wasn’t dense; he studied her averted face, made note of her new tension and decided to ease into things. “Yesterday, you said you drove to work.”

“Yes.”

“Where was your car?”

“In the side lot.” She tipped her head. “Don’t you want some aspirin? Maybe some coffee, too?”

“In a minute.” If she hoped to distract him, she’d do better by taking off the T-shirt. “So what do you drive?”

Her nose wrinkled. “We really need to talk about this?”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

“I guess not.” Then half under her breath, she mumbled, “Infiniti.”

“Yeah?” Nice car. Rowdy watched her. “What kind?”

Lower still, she said, “G37 convertible.” She tacked on, “It’s two years old.”

He had to muffle a laugh. “That old, huh?” To him that’d still be a new car. She’d told him she came from money. Now Rowdy wanted to know why it embarrassed her. “What color?”

Dropping to her back, she sighed. “Cherry red.”

“Sounds sweet.”

“Yeah.” She turned her head to face him. “I haven’t driven it in a while, but I, um, decided you were right, that walking home from the bus stop might not be... Well, it was dumb, I guess.”

And somehow he just knew this all tied in together. “You can show it to me later before we start work. And speaking of work—I meant to ask you about that phone call you got last night.” He said it casually while taking in every nuance of her expression. “Just a customer?”

If she said yes, he’d know she was lying. And then what? He wanted her to trust him—and he wanted to be able to trust in return.

He literally saw her gird herself. “It was no one.”

“No one important, you mean?”

“I mean I answered, but there wasn’t anyone there.” Keeping the sheet tucked in around her bare legs, she sat up. “How is your back? Do you need help into the bathroom?”

No way would he let her start babying him. He believed her about the call, but she had a suspicion about who it might’ve been. He wanted to know it all.

Rowdy reached for her—and a knock sounded on his door.

They both went still.