Torch (Take It Off) (10 page)

Oh my.

I bit my lip. No one had ever said anything like that to me, ever.

He groaned, staring at my mouth. “That drives me crazy.”

I released my lip.

“Kiss me, Katie.”

My gaze fell to his lips. He was mere inches away; my body was fitted between his legs and against him in a way that left little to the imagination.

I hadn’t kissed someone in a long time. I usually found it useless because even if the kiss turned out to be good, it wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t get attached to someone. I didn’t want the pain of saying good-bye.

But I was tempted.

His lips were like a really sinful slice of chocolate cake. You knew if you ate it, you would hate yourself in the morning, but the call of that chocolate was so utterly strong you had to take a bite.

I gazed again at his lips, still inches from mine. He was watching me, watching me debate, watching me try to resist. He didn’t try to sway me; he didn’t try to make the first move. He just held himself there, as still as a statue, and waited.

Tentatively, I leaned forward, keeping my eyes open, and brushed my lips over his. It was a brief kiss but a full one, and when I pulled back a little, part of my bottom lip seemed to take longer to pull away than the rest of me. It was like it wanted to stay, like it finally knew where it belonged.

I whispered his name as my eyes fluttered closed and his arm slid around my waist, pulling me fully against him. His mouth crashed down on mine, his soft, full lips slanting over me in a way that left no room for thought. A buzzing sound filled my head, the only thing I heard as passion built inside me. He nipped at my bottom lip with his teeth and then sucked it into his mouth, gently massaging it with his tongue. Heat swirled in my center, and I became bolder to release my tongue, letting it mingle with his, brushing them against each other over and over again.

My hands slid up his chest and wound around his neck, trying to pull him down farther, wanting him closer to me.

He slid his knee between my legs and lifted, my back sliding up the wall and my feet leaving the ground. The pressure of his hard leg pressed against my core caused a small purr to rip from my throat.

My thighs clenched around him and he shifted, sliding me even closer, so I could feel the evidence of his desire pressed against my middle. Pressure in my lower half began to build. My body began to long for something more, for some kind of release.

He tore his mouth away, leaning his forehead against the wall beside me. I kept my arms looped around his neck as I pulled in deep gulps of air as I tried to ignore the craving of my lower half.

“Damn, Freckles,” he rasped.

Damn, indeed.

Slowly he lowered his leg and me to the ground, and after a few long moments, he stepped back, allowing enough space for me to squeeze by.

Before I could disappear completely into the bathroom, he caught my arm and pulled me back around as he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my hairline. “If you need anything, just yell.”

He handed me the towel and then left me standing in the hall.

In the bathroom, I closed the door and then sagged against it. In a matter of moments, he managed to make me feel a whole host of emotions—fear, humor, lust. But it wasn’t any of those that caused me to stand here and realize I was in deep.

It was that last kiss.

The one he pressed to my forehead.

Because a guy who only thought about passion, a guy who only thought about satisfying a need, didn’t display that kind of tenderness.

And that kiss was nothing if not tender.

9

Beads of sweat gathered on my skin and created a slick sheen of moisture over the surface of my body. The heat was unbearable—intense and thick. Everywhere I turned there was more. There was no escape; there was no relief.

I heard the sound of shattering glass, the angry rush of flames, and I tried to run. Glass shards cut into my feet, making me cry out, but I kept moving, throwing my arms up to shield my face from the burn.

Through my makeshift shield, I spied the door and yanked the handle, trying to pull it open. The metal of the knob scorched my skin, and I cried out, falling backward onto the debris-ridden floor.

I was back in the motel room.

Trapped.

Fire drew closer, devouring everything in its path, promising destruction, promising death.

I pushed up off the floor and banged on the door, screaming for help. I moved toward the window, but it was gone. The only way out was the door… the door that was now consumed by fire.

I backed away… farther into the room, farther into the flames, and the scent of burned flesh and human hair began to fill the space around me.

I screamed.

“Dammit, Katie!” someone yelled. “Wake up!”

His voice broke through the nightmare and my body went completely rigid against the sweat-drenched sheets.

I blinked away the vision of red and orange, letting the darkness of the room surround me. I would take darkness over fire any day.

The mattress dipped slightly on my one side, and I turned my head to find Holt watching me. His bare chest practically glowed in the darkness. “I was having a nightmare,” I said, really reassuring myself more than speaking to him.

“I figured that out,” he replied dryly. “I thought you were being murdered back here by the way you screamed.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

A thick strand of damp hair clung to my cheek and he reached out to brush it away. “Wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head. Dreaming it was bad enough.

I sat up, pushing away the sheets tangled around my legs. The scent of smoke seemed to cling to me, reminding me once again of everything I was trying to forget.

I pulled at the tank top I was wearing; it was sticking to my skin. Holt went across the room to the closet and returned with a light-colored T-shirt. “Here. You can put this on if you want.”

“Thank you,” I said. I wanted these smoke-ridden, sweaty clothes off me, and since all my clothes smelled, this shirt was a lot better than anything I had.

He didn’t say anything else, just quietly left the room. I hurried to change, throwing my PJs across the room and into a darkened corner. I’d deal with them later.

A glance at the clock on the nightstand told me I still had several hours until morning, and I knew I was in for a long night. I wasn’t quite ready to get back in bed, and my throat felt dry, so I left the bedroom and padded into the kitchen for a bottle of cool water.

On my way back through the living room, I glanced at the couch and froze. Holt was lying there with a blanket tossed over his legs.

“You’re sleeping on the couch?” I said, surprise lacing my tone.

“I figured it was too soon to climb into bed with you,” he drawled.

A warm flush spread over my limbs. The idea of sharing a bed with him… of being tangled up in his arms and legs… was entirely too appealing. “I’m an idiot.”

He chuckled. “And why is that?”

Because I should have realized that he only had one bed in this house and I was hogging it. He did say my scent was on
his
sheets. Geez, how slow on the uptake was I? “I should be the one sleeping out here.”

“No.” It sounded like a command.

“Yes.”

He moved so fast I barely saw him, and then he was towering over me, my eyes left to stare at the very wide expanse of his chiseled chest. “What kind of a man do you think I am?” he drawled.

“What?” I said, not really listening to his words. His body was the ultimate distraction.

“Do you really think I would let someone—a girl—who was just released from the hospital, still bruised and burned, sleep on my couch?”

“I’m sure I would be more comfortable there than you would be.”

“Go back to bed, Katie.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“And if I don’t?” I challenged. I didn’t really care for the overbearing type.

“If you don’t, I’m going to rip my shirt off you right here and do things to your body that will echo through your limbs long after I stop touching you.”

I took a sip of the chilled water, thinking it would clear my head of the images he just filled it with.

It didn’t help.

Part of me was very tempted to see if he would follow through on his words. The other part of me wanted to run away.

He leaned down toward my face. “What’s it gonna be, Freckles?”

Like a big fat chicken, I turned and fled into the safety of his bedroom. I jumped onto the mattress like there was something hiding beneath it, waiting to snatch me away. Then I sat in the center of the massive bed and tried to calm the tingle of excitement that coursed through me.

As I buried my head into one of the fluffy pillows and squeezed my eyes shut, I could have sworn his laughter echoed through the darkness.

*    *    *

He was sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of cereal, when I entered the kitchen the next morning. I was relieved to see he was wearing a shirt. Instead of dealing with a pair of jeans or shorts, I opted instead for a simple T-shirt dress in navy blue. I’d wanted to braid my hair but didn’t feel like aggravating my wrists, so I left it down to fall halfway down my back.

My eyes about fell out of my head when I saw the size of Holt’s cereal bowl—if you could even call it that. It looked more like a bucket and a shovel.

“Holy cow,” I observed. “Do you eat an entire box of cereal every morning?”

“Nah,” he scoffed, shoving a huge bite into his mouth. “Just half a box.” The crunching of his chewing echoed through the room. “I don’t have any coffee, but we can go get some,” he said around another entirely too large mouthful.

I made a face. “I don’t drink coffee.”

He grunted. “Me either.”

“We must be the only two people on the planet,” I mused as I scrounged around his cabinets for a normal-sized bowl and spoon.

When I turned from the counter with an actual portion of cereal in hand, I noticed the paper at his elbow. It was the note. From my biggest fan.

“We should take that to the police.”

Holt nodded. “We need to talk.”

I sat down beside him, eyeing the note like it was strapped to some kind of bomb ready to detonate at any second.

“You really have no idea who this could be?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I really don’t.”

“Well, if you ask me, you sure pissed someone off because he seems awfully motivated to burn you to a crisp.”

“You keep saying ‘he,’” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “It could be a woman.”

It could be. But it really didn’t feel like it. It seemed if a woman were going to kill me, she would just grab a gun and be done with it. This person seemed to like to play with their prey before they killed it.

“Maybe one of your friends got mixed up in something and dragged you into it without you realizing it.”

I stirred my cereal around as he threw out guesses.

“Or maybe it’s an ex-boyfriend? An ex-husband?”

I sighed. “No.”

“I think you should at least consider the possibility—” he began.

My spoon clattered against the bowl and I pushed away from the counter. “I haven’t had a boyfriend in years. And even then, it was no one that mattered.”

“Dates gone bad?”

I shook my head.

“You can’t really expect me to believe you don’t date?” He scoffed.

“I don’t,” I said flat. “Up until this point, I’ve lived a very uneventful life.”

“What about work?” he asked slowly.

“I’m a librarian. Most of my coworkers are books.”

He frowned. “What about the ones who aren’t books?”

“One is an elderly lady and the other is an intern. My director doesn’t work at my library branch but has a different office. I barely see her.”

“Do the police have any leads?”

“Up until last night, they thought my house fire was some kind of random act of violence. I don’t think they’ve had enough time to get any leads.”

“So what are they doing?” He made a frustrated sound and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sure they’re investigating. They just told me to be careful and report anything strange immediately. Which is exactly why we need to take that note to the station.”

He looked frustrated and angry.

“Look, this isn’t your problem. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done.”

“Don’t even suggest that you leave again,” he growled.

“I’m not your responsibility!” I said, throwing my hands into the air.

He caught me around the middle, yanking me off the barstool and causing me to stumble into his lap. His hand cradled the back of my head and he stared down at me with angry eyes. His chest was heaving and with every sharp intake of breath, his firm body brushed against my chest. My body didn’t seem to notice his anger and only cared about his nearness because my nipples drew into rock hard buds, aching instantly for just one more touch.

I felt breathless, shocked, and excited all at once. Shocked at his display of anger, breathless by my body’s desire, and excited because he was so incredibly close.