In Her Sights (35 page)

But more than likely, it was the unbelievable woman
currently standing in his living room that had his entire life sitting just a
touch off center. Even more so tonight than before. It was that dance.

Even though what they’d done in the middle of that ballroom had
been so much more than dancing. They’d been—hell he didn’t know. He just knew
it was different. She had been different. For the first time, she sat back and let him have the lead. Having the lead was good.

She moved deeper into his house, wearing that sin of a dress
that fit better than a wet t-shirt down to her hips. Then the rest just moved
with her. The knot in his tie got a bit tighter.

He shook his head and turned toward his room. “I’ll be just
a minute, then we can go.”

He didn’t know if she answered him. He didn’t wait to find
out and instead moved to his bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. They were
supposed to be in here together. At least, that was his plan. He thought it was
hers, too, but then that phone message came through. He rubbed his face, trying
to get a handle on things.

“You look tired.”

He glanced up and found her leaning on the doorway. “Long
few days.”

She walked forward and lowered to a knee before him. “It has been. My life isn’t always this busy, if you were wondering.”

The corner of his lips tugged. “I hope not. I’m not sure I
could survive trying to keep up with you.”

She didn’t ask, but pulled on the tie, loosening the knot
and untangling the turns in seconds. He glanced down, and he wasn’t sure he
should have done that. She rested on one knee, but the other leg was bent up,
her weight on her foot. It was the side with the big split in the dress. The
dress had ridden high to her hip. The dark silk cut across her thigh and
covered all the places he wanted to see the most.

This was good. She pulled on the end of the tie until it was
freed from his neck, and she dropped it to the floor. She made quick work of
the buttons on his shirt. Her small fingers had the row undone in no time.

“Lexie.” His voice was down to a whisper.

She cupped his cheeks and leaned forward, pressing her mouth
to his. “No talking. Everything else can wait.”

She moved forward on her knees and bunched his shirt in her
hands, pulling it up. The kiss stopped long enough to get the shirt off. He
pulled her against him and got his hands on her. She fit right along him. He braced
around her ribs and her back, searching for what would be a small and nearly
hidden zipper. While they’d danced, he’d felt the tiny thing teasing his palm.

His heart throbbed. Her breath panted.

The handle of her zipper at the back was barely large enough
for his big hands, but he got his fingers around the tip and lowered. The teeth
loosened, inching down her bare back. The soft dress parted and opened to warm
skin. The zipper eased down the long length of her spine and stopped at the
curve of her lower back.

She kissed from his mouth to his jaw while her hands grabbed
at his undershirt. She tossed it aside, and he stood. She was on her knees
before him and while he liked the angle here, he offered her a hand and pulled
her to her feet. Her dress puddled to the floor. It was just her in dark
panties and jewels that sparkled in her ears and around her wrist. Dark high
heels lifted her to eye level. Nearly taller. She was all warm, flushed skin
with curves of a woman.

Full breasts, narrow waist, and hips built for holding. It
shouldn’t be possible. This woman had so much, did so much, and she continued
to be more perfect. He traced the subtle line going down the center of her abs.
No doubt from the years of hard work. Hell, every last inch of her that wasn’t
soft womanly curves was shaped. Not built. Not bulked with muscle.

Just shaped. The thin line of her panties wrapped her hips,
and he caught her there. His hands fit to her waist and his fingers wrapped
around to her naked ass. Only his longest fingers barely reached the thin
center string of her thong. He hooked his thumb and fingertips in the barrier
and lowered them. Dropping to his knee, he pulled them down over the black
heels. He started to stand, but didn’t.

He touched her trim ankles, cupped her calves, and slid his
hands all the way up the forever-long length of her legs. A scar here and
there. From things he probably didn’t want to know, but chose to believe were all
from childhood playing.

Thin slivers of white lines marked her thighs. A longer one
around her hips. If he wasn’t an inch away, he wouldn’t see them. He pressed
his lips to a jagged looking one. “Your scars are just barely there.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m not usually
caught in anything hand-to-hand. The idea is to not be seen. And I have a very
good doctor with very good scar tape. Most of what I have is my own fault.
Tripping over something. Catching the corner of something I took too narrow.”

He touched the mark. “This is the worst one I see.”

“Knife.”

Damn. He was never going to get used to being with her. “Where?”

The corner of her lips turned up. “Backyard. I was practicing
and was distracted that day.”

He blinked at her. “You practice with real weapons?”

“Bad guys have the real thing. I know it’s long and it looks
ugly, but it wasn’t deep. I was still able to run a mile with it.”

His mouth fell open a moment as he stroked the mark. “You
ran after getting this.”

“I have to know what I can do when the time calls for it.”
She bent and cupped his cheeks, encouraging him to stand. “A little special
glue and some scar tape that smoothed it off to that barely there line. Time to
let it heal and I was fine.” Her head tipped to the side. “No one else has ever
noticed it.”

He smoothed the mark with his fingers and bit back the
response to that. Hell, how could it be missed? “I’m going to worry with you a
lot. For reasons I never imagined.”

Talk about turning things on their head. Instead of danger
finding her, he worried she would get into her own trouble and would run
herself to the ground to stay out of it.

She opened his belt and released the button of his pants. “I
thought you weren’t interested in talking.”

“Keep on with my pants like that, and I won’t be.”

She opened the zipper and he toed off his shoes, then kicked
off his pants. Socks were pulled off next. Her hair was still up off her neck,
and he moved behind her and looked for whatever was holding it together. She
reached back, and he smoothed a hand down her arm. “Let me.”

One by one, he pulled out tiny clips. Sections of hair fell
at a time. Loose curls that reached the middle of her back and bounced. Thick
blonde hair continued to fall until all the clips were gone. It was all loose, and
he combed his fingers through it. She purred as he moved through the last of
it. Chills blanketed her skin, and he returned to her front. Hair had fallen
into her face, but not so much that he couldn’t see her lowered lids and barely
there smile.

He got his hands in her hair and framed her face. He bent her backward and finally kissed her like he wanted. Her
body was flush to his. Soft and curvy. Firm abs. Knee sliding along his leg up and down his thigh.

She pushed on the waist of his briefs, freeing him and
lowering them off. She walked him backward. When his legs hit the mattress, he
grabbed her and fell, pulling her with him.

Her shoes flicked off and clomped on the floor, and he
rolled her beneath him. She was soft, yet solid under him. Her legs long, and
thighs snug against his hips. He kissed her.

Kissed her harder as she kissed back. Got his fingers in her
hair and tugged.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Lexie had never felt so much in her life. Just felt. The
length of his body along hers. How his coarse legs slid against her smooth
ones. The light touch of his fingers everywhere on her skin and in her hair. Down
on her ankles. Knuckles skirted up her legs. Even the few moments spent examining the basically forgotten scar on her hip fanned through her whole body.

She could just feel. He made her feel it all. The throbbing
beat of her heart pounding in her chest and pulsing through her veins. The
heavy weight of her sensitive breasts.

Her center against his firm length.

His kiss moved to the curve of her neck and shoulder. Ticklish, feather light touches of his lips whispered across the top of her chest. Her breasts were heavy and she needed him there.

Then he was. The rough pads of his fingertips first stroked
across a breast. He filled her in his hand, then his mouth. Sucked, drew her in
until she was arching off the bed against him wanting and needing so much.

He gave equal attention to both, then kissed the valley of
her breasts. A hand had worked under her lower back, and he lifted her stomach
to his mouth, pressing kiss after long kiss to her belly, then back to her
ribs. Down again.

She was panting. Sweating and reduced to an aching need for
something more. She begged on a whispered breath for more.

He pushed up on his knees. Bent her legs up around the width
of his hips and traced a finger along her center. It was maddening. It was
crazy. It was so dang good.

Just not enough.

He kissed her. Caressed along her opening and then offered a
little more. Stroked with his palm against her front. Her thighs
tingled, wanting to squeeze his hand. So much had come together and then this
waiting, waiting. More waiting as he teased and played. And she couldn’t stand
it. When he couldn’t, either, he pulled away and dug in his nightstand.

Her pulse hammered. Thoughts were gone as he was back and
entering. Pushing deep and taking each of her breaths with his thrusts. His
scent was strong. That earthy, spicy cologne wrapped around her.

She held him tight, shut her eyes, and just dissolved into
feeling his thrusts. His moans hummed in her ear. The weight of him against her
chest until there was nothing left but completion and stillness.

His firm, flexed muscles rested, and he settled over her.
His weight in his hips, pushing on her thighs. He kissed her cheek. The tip of
her nose, then again on the mouth.

This was so much more than anything she’d ever experienced
before. Not just the sex but because of him. He knew her through and through. It
wasn’t just being an adult satisfying a craving. It was opening a new door and
finding more inside. She rubbed his back. Not wanting to stop touching him as
his heart beat against her chest.

He rested his head against a pillow near the crook of her
neck and turned her hair through his fingers. “I can’t imagine it being
possible, but do you have any other secrets or identities or other things I don’t
know about that I should?”

She laughed. “No. I don’t know where I’d make time for
anything else.”

“Me, neither.”

She caressed his smooth jaw with her thumb. “Where do we go
from here?”

“The kitchen for something to eat?” He kissed her jaw and
adjusted so he was behind her with his arm wrapped across her chest. “Or maybe a
nap.”

After everything that had been happening, a nap sounded just
about perfect. She hugged his arm and laid her hand over his. Yes, this was
nice. It wasn’t very often she got to cuddle and just lay around like this.

Or it would be nice, if her phone wasn’t ringing. She pushed
up. “Keep the bed warm for me.”

“I’ll get it.”

But she was already up, the comforter off his bed and
wrapped around her. “I’ve got it.”

She hurried to the living room, where she’d left her purse
on the couch. Her phone rang out again and ended. She pulled it up from her
purse and accessed her voicemail.

“Lexie, Mr. Pritchard is here and he wants his dagger back. He
says it’s an emergency and is waiting, if you can come home. He’s making me a
little nervous.”

Lexie replayed the message. Surely she heard Julia wrong,
but she hadn’t. Clayton moved behind her and rubbed his hands up and down her
arms. She listened to the message again and shook her head. “Something’s wrong
at home.”

Clayton came to her side. “What?”

“Apparently Arnold Prichard is there, waiting for me to get
the dagger.” She extended the phone and let him listen.

He took the phone. “Arnold finally returns.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Clayton pulled into Lexie’s driveway and parked next to
Arnold’s truck. She started to get out, but he caught her by the hand first. “Let
me try talking to him alone.”

“Why?”

“If he’s nervous and antsy, he’s going to be ready to get
out of here. He knows exactly what he left you. He’s going to know the trouble
you’ve had since he brought you the dagger. He might be a little ashamed to
stick around and talk. And I’m a private investigator. If he knows that and we’re
talking, he might open up for advice or ask for my help.”

She studied him a moment. “If he doesn’t answer anything and
acts like he’s ready to go, then I’ll leave you alone while I get the dagger. I’ll
take my time getting it, too.”

It was good knowing she’d work with him. That she trusted
him and they didn’t have to argue back and forth before she would see his
reasoning. So different from where they’d started. Looking back though, he
could see her reasons for arguing on the camera placement. “Thanks.”

“You make a good point. And I think I’ll stick to the story
that I don’t know it’s stolen. I’m going to wrap it back up as it came in the
mail and just give him the sealed box back.”

“Good. It might put him at ease if he thinks you don’t know.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He stepped out of the car and met her at the door as Julia
opened it. A breath left the older woman. “Thank goodness you’re here. He won’t
stop sweating.”