Dangerous Rescue by Evanne Lorraine

DANGEROUS RESCUE

by

Evanne Lorraine

© Copyright by Evanne Lorraine, July 2012

© Cover Art by Eliza Black, July 2012

© Original Copyright, November 2008

ISBN: 978-1-60394-711-4

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

After exiting off the highway onto the Ocean Shores access road, Ian pulled to a stop at a four-way intersection. He glanced over and found Regan watching him. He brushed a silky strand, which had escaped, back behind her ear. She didn’t pull away. He leaned toward her, taking his time, giving her time to object. She moved closer to him—a tiny movement, but in the right direction.

The attraction, which had sizzled between them from day one flared to life. His lips barely brushed hers. A horn blast spoiled the moment. He jerked back, registering the headlights right behind them.

The kiss had been so brief it hardly counted. Yet, his lips tingled and his ears heated from the remembered sweetness. Something soft touched his arm. He reached out blindly and Regan’s hand snuggled into his.

“I’m glad you were there to today.” She spoke softly, but her words slipped through his defenses, warming his heart.

“Me too, princess,” he said gruffly.

She might make him crazy and uncertain and hopeful. But no matter what she did to him—this time he wasn’t blowing it. Even if she was right and all they had between them was chemistry—then it was lab time.

When they arrived at the cottage, he busied himself with hauling in his luggage, and then the groceries. Watching as she looked over the beach house, trying to see it through her eyes. He wanted to stay optimistic, but the whole place was done in sedate and well-behaved colors--dull. The living area had a boring brown sofa that would cramp more than his style if he had to sleep on it.

She tipped her head toward the master suite with its private bath. Not bad. You want to use the shower first?”

“Nah.” He sat the grocery sacks on the breakfast bar, and then flipped the switch to start the hot tub. He gestured toward the deck where the water bubbled invitingly. “I’m going to soak out there.”

“You have a swim suit?” she asked with what sounded a lot like wistfulness.

Because he had one or because she didn’t?

He lifted the battered leather suitcase, in his left hand in silent answer to her question. Not that he’d insist on wearing it.

“Always prepared,” she murmured.

And ready and willing and able.

Regan moved toward the bedroom. “I’m grabbing a shower then.”

Ian stood, stupidly holding his suitcase. Nothing was working the way he wanted it to. He was much too aware of his own hunger and unsure how hard to push her.

Regan called back from the bedroom. “You want to change first, help yourself.”

“I’m cool. I’ll wait till you’re out of the shower.”

“Why, what’s up?” Regan came back into the living room. The blazer and her shoes were missing.

Ian couldn’t get his mouth to form words. Every thought focused on absorbing the way she looked. Her dark hair hung flat down her back, forming a glossy curtain. The slip covered more of her than a bikini would have, but the color was close to bare and almost as sexy. Her look set fire to his imagination.

The sleek fabric clung to every curve and hollow, drawing attention to the dark smudges made by her areolas and making him painfully aware of her rigid nipples.

He tried to stop ogling her, unsuccessfully and in that instant his thoughts of revenge evaporated like ice in the heat of August.

“Come on. I won’t bite too hard.” Musical laughter floated behind her words as she disappeared into the bedroom.

He hadn’t imagined that invitation.

“You’re sure?” he croaked.

“Yeah, just don’t go making a big deal about it. I need you to be clear about this. We’re just friends with benefits. You’re good about this—about us, right?” Her words drifted through the haze of lust clouding his thoughts.

In your dreams, princess.

“Right,” he lied roughly. The word creaked out of a mouth gone dryer than one of his grandmother’s tea.

She wandered back out, looking more tempting than ever. Dark eyes met his, asking him questions he knew he would agreed to. “Sorry about the lecture. It must be all that special victim sensitivity training coming out. You are good with just sex?”

“Yeah.”Oh yeah, whatever you want to call it—as long as it happens soon. Real soon. Like now. Please God.

Moving closer, she snaked an arm around his neck, and then touched her lips to his. He opened for her. He surrendered to the kiss, afraid to move. He waited for disaster to strike. Waited for her to pull back. Waited for her to change her mind.

He was so thrilled when she didn’t he damn near disgraced himself before the main event. When he didn’t care, the game of seduction came so easily. But, no matter what he told himself or what he’d agreed to—this was Regan. How could he not care?

She came up for air and he pulled back his head to take in her eyes, half-shut and endlessly dark. An unsolvable mystery. Her mouth was still wet and swollen from his kisses. He brushed the satin covering her back and moved on, stroking skin that was finer than the fabric, trembling as he followed the thin straps down to the lacy edge.

He molded his palm, which seemed way too coarse to touch such perfection, to one of her straining breasts. Her rigid nipple poked into his hand, demanding attention. Her body arched into him and a low needy sound tugged at his balls.

Lowering his head, he drew one insistent nipple into his mouth right through the slip and her lacy bra. When he’d suckled it thoroughly, he pulled back enough to stare at the wet material prodded by the proud peak. The dark nipple puckered, only thinly veiled by the now translucent satin. He bent his head to replicate his attentions on the other side, keeping the first nipple tight by rolling the responsive nub between his fingers.

When he raised his head the second time, she reached for him, tracing the outline of his erection. He captured her hands. More stimulation was the last thing he needed.