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.
It may have also been my undoing.
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.