Simply Sinful (Simply 1)

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Once again, his need had gotten in the way of common sense. “Get some rest,” he said gruffly.

“I’m sorry.” Her shoulders remained stiff.

“For?” He worked the muscles beneath his fingers, kneading her soft skin. As a distraction, it didn’t work. He had a sexy woman in his arms and his body knew it.

“I’m a lot of things, Kane. But I’m not a tease.”

He heard the desperation in her tone. Her need for him to understand. “Did I say you were?”

“No. But I’m sure you’re thinking it.”

He sensed the source of her concern was based in her past and understood. “As a matter of fact, I’m not.”

“Then what are you thinking?” she asked.

That she didn’t need to dig into old insecurities. Not with him. He respected everything about her. “That I pushed myself on a poor, frail, injured woman,” he said with a crooked grin.

She laughed. His attempt to lighten the mood had obviously worked. “No, really.”

“That I wasn’t in the mood anyway.”

This time she treated him to a snort of disbelief. “Seriously.”

“I was thinking,” he said, pausing to smooth her hair and inhale the fragrant scent that was Kayla. “That what just happened…”

“Yes?”

“Was the best almost sex I ever had.” Just being with her was beyond good. Kane accepted how much he needed her, even as he knew he’d ultimately let her go.

No matter what emotion and softness she offered him, he’d take none. But for the duration of the case, he’d protect her with his life.

* * *

Fresh from an uneventful shower, Kayla made her way to the family room. Kane sat staring at the boxes she recognized as holding her aunt’s things. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You should be resting.”

She scowled. “I slept half the day yesterday and all last night. I’m fine.” Or as close to fine as she could be with her attacker’s threat still echoing in her brain, her aunt’s reputation and her business in jeopardy…and having shared her bed with Kane McDermott for the past dozen hours.

Like her, he’d showered and changed. Judging by his appearance, she realized his clothes must also have arrived with the boxes. She wouldn’t be female if she didn’t admit she liked what she saw. Faded jeans stretched across his muscular legs. A black Henley covered his broad chest. The detective might not know much about cleaning his clothes, but he knew how to wear them. He just plain looked good.

She walked into her family room and knelt down beside him. Her thigh brushed his, a brief and accidental contact. Her stomach muscles curled into twisted bands of excitement and need. What should have been innocent wasn’t.

“You’ve got some color back in your cheeks,” he noted.

And it had nothing to do with good health, she thought wryly. “I feel better. Up to tackling those boxes, anyway.” She gestured to the opened cartons spread around the room.

“You showered.” He fingered her freshly washed hair.

She grinned. “Even I couldn’t share the bed with me a minute longer.”

“You should have called me.”

“So you could stand guard outside the bathroom? I’m not an invalid,” she assured him. And she didn’t want him treating her as one. His attention was nice, but she didn’t want his pity.

“I started without you.”

“Find anything interesting?” Her initial inspection of the contents had been cursory at best.