Extreme Danger. Shannon McKenna
the adventurous type. Her nose is pierced. She’s trekked in Nepal. She’s gone on safari. Whoop de doo for her. Bitch.”
Her fury made his mouth twitch. He hadn’t smiled in so long, he almost didn’t recognize the sensation. Sort of like a tic.
She didn’t appreciate it. Her eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny? Do I amuse you?”
“Sorry.” He looked her slowly up and down. “I don’t think you’re a mannequin. You look real to me.”
“Um, thank you, I think,” she said stiffly. “I don’t suppose that means you would consider taking off these handcuffs? They hurt.”
He stared at her. If what she said was true, he’d endangered them both by making her curious about him. If what she said was a lie, then there was an evil plot afoot, which meant that the chances of him going on up to the Great Stake-Out in the Sky tonight were very good.
He took a deep breath, let it out. The more he looked at that gift-of-God gorgeous body, the less inclined he was to worry about it.
It occurred to him that if she really was just a naked events coordinator, she wasn’t likely to drug, stab, or poison him while they did the deed.
He stopped that thought dead in its tracks. The chick was scared out of her wits. Restrained with his cuffs. No matter how stunning she was, he had never forced the issue with a woman in his life, and he damn well wasn’t going to start now. No matter who was watching.
He couldn’t think of any safe way to deal with her, though. If only there was a way to scare her off the island until Zhoglo and his crew had come and gone. But keeping her quiet might be impossible if he was deliberately terrifying. She could go to the local cops, file a complaint, and screw up everything. Perhaps fatally.
So. What now? He couldn’t expect her to laugh it off. Or just give her the cuffs to take home for a souvenir of an oh-so-wacky encounter with her nutty new neighbor. They would have to become instant friends for that to happen.
Every male instinct he had clamored to keep her right where she was. Naked and helpless and very close to him.
Grow up, dickwad. He let out a regretful sigh, and undid the cuffs.
Becca flopped heavily down onto knees that felt weaker than water, the second that she was freed. Long, bare brown feet planted on the floor tiles in front of her swam into focus. Her eyes traveled up over hairy, muscular calves. He wore raggedy cargo pants, cut off below the knees. Her gaze traveled over rock hard thighs, lean hips, the…oh, my. The bulge at his groin.
It was a big bulge.
She swallowed, and continued up his belly, his hard, slabbed chest shown off to amazing advantage in the tattered black muscle shirt. She looked straight into his intense dark eyes. Beautiful eyes, heavily lashed. An exotic hooded slant to them. A hot, focused stare.
A rush of nervous female caution made her insides flutter. She had to get up, onto her feet, this instant. Being naked on her knees in front of this huge, scary man was making her feel…no.
Whatever it was she was feeling, she didn’t want to feel it. Not for a second. It was unsettling. Whew.
But she was naked. At least crouching she could cover herself. She peeked up. Her eyes skittered away from his like a drop of water bouncing off a hot griddle. Scratch that previous assessment. Amend it to huge, scary, sexy man. She got her hands beneath her for leverage to get to her feet, but big, warm hands seized her, the span of his fingers spreading over her rib cage. He lifted her, and set her down. His hands slid away. A ripple reaction moved over her skin.
Her gaze darted around, but she soon gave up and let herself be dragged into the tractor beam of those eyes again. He was so big. But not thick-necked, pumped up muscle. He looked hard and athletic, a predator poised to strike. He must be guarding this place—a regular Joe Homeowner wouldn’t have whipped out cuffs, for God’s sake, although lots of guys had guns.
His shoulders were ropy and thick. Tattoos swirled on both of them, but she couldn’t make out the images without her glasses. Didn’t matter. The man had his own gravitational field. It dragged at her.
His face was gorgeous in a rugged way. Smudgy shadows under his eyes. The hint of dimples carved deep beneath jutting cheekbones. Lines framing his hard, sealed mouth. A bumpy nose with a troubled past. Tangled mahogany hair brushed his shoulders. Dark, winged brows. An old scar slashed through one of them. His stubble was almost long enough to be called a beard. She wondered if she really had gotten him out of bed. He looked like he could use the sleep.
She wrapped an arm around her breasts, tried to cover her pubic hair with one hand. His eyes moved over her, a slow, hot lick over her flesh. Currents of invisible energy flowed between them, powerful and muscular. She licked her trembling lips. “Wha—what happened to your gun?” she blurted.
His stern mouth twitched. “Don’t worry about my gun. I’m not going to shoot you with it. Unless you try to kill me.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, and licked her lips again before she could stop herself. “I’m, ah, not going to do anything of the kind.”
“That’s great news,” he said. “Very comforting.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” she snapped. A grin flashed across his face. Yup. There they were. Very nice dimples suddenly flanked his mouth. His teeth were very white.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She bent, keeping her eyes locked on his, and reached for the towel. He snagged it with his big toe and moved it out of her reach.
“No,” he said, very softly. “I like you just like you are. You said you were looking for adventure. Need a guide?”
She covered more of herself with her hands. “I can’t believe I said that. And no. I don’t.”
He nodded. “OK.” His voice was low and velvety. He stared at her for a long time.
“Step away from me, right now,” she whispered. “Give me space.”
He stepped back. Cold displaced the force field emanating from his body. Becca felt exposed. She wrapped her arms all the way around herself.
He reached for her wrists and made his move, slowly opening her arms wide. “You’re beautiful.”
Her chin lifted, her breasts tilted. “No, I’m not.” She wanted to cry. She wanted to kiss him. What the hell was the matter with her?
It was obvious that he was aroused. His cargo pants hid nothing. He noticed the direction of her gaze, and gave her a you-wanna-make-something-of-it grin.
God, did she? Her thighs tingled. She wondered, out of the blue, how it would feel to have sex with a man that size.
He was picturing it, too. She saw it in his eyes. Fear and excitement jolted over her. Oh, boy. Hold on here. Just wait a goddamn minute. She wasn’t ready for the big league. She wanted to start small.
But she couldn’t have special-ordered a more perfect candidate for a no-holds-barred sexual adventure. She’d never been with a man like this guy. Her previous boyfriends had been harmless types. Accountants, computer consultants, academics. Great for help with taxes or home tech support when her laptop pooped out on her, but not for sparking thigh-tingling sexual curiosity.
This guy was a complete unknown. Other than the fact that he carried a gun with an air of casual familiarity. And had physically restrained her, of course. Handcuffs, for God’s sake. Skilfully applied, swiftly removed.
Huh.
So this was how it felt to be totally turned on. A mild, pleasant glow was as much as she’d ever been able to work up before, either in company or solo with her vibrator. Nice, but hardly worth all the effort.
Maybe the extreme situation had jarred her sexual awareness to life, like a malfunctioning appliance that needed a kick to get it going.
The