“Zacharias?”
The door shut. Had she closed it so she could open the chain? Or wasn’t she going to let him in? He’d break down the door if he had to; he’d do whatever it took to get to her.
He’d waited too long. Much too long.
; Slowly, the door swung open.
Jaimie stood in front of him, barefoot, her hair a pale nimbus, her face devoid of makeup. She was wearing a long white nightgown. It was cotton, simple, unadorned.
Almost sheer.
Through it, he could see the outline of her breasts, her nipples; his gaze swept over her. He could see more, the delicate shadowing of her sex.
His heart thudded.
“Zacharias” Her voice shook. “Oh God, Zacharias…”
“Jaimie,” he said in a rough voice.
Then he stepped through the door, reached for her, and she sobbed his name again and flung herself into his arms.
CHAPTER TEN
He held her against him, his arms tight around her. She was on her toes, her arms looped around his neck, her body pressed to his, her face warm against his throat.
She was trembling.
Anything could have happened to her tonight, could have happened all these terrible weeks since she’d run from him.
His blood chilled.
Maybe he hadn’t spotted an intruder casing the building. Maybe he’d already been inside.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, her words somewhere between laughter and tears. “I was dreaming about you, and I woke up and—and here you are.”
Thank God. He’d spooked the intruder before he’d been able to do whatever he’d intended to do. A peeper? Maybe, but there’d been something in the way the guy had moved, and that he’d parked his vehicle a street away and knew precisely how to get to it suggested more.
Zach gathered her even closer, ran his hand up and down her spine, breathed in the scent of her.
“Why did you leave me?” he said in a thick voice. “Why did you run away that night?”
She lifted her face to his. Her vision was blurry with tears, but it was Zacharias, just as she’d remembered him, dreamed of him. Big. Beautiful. His eyes so green, his body hard and lean and exciting against hers.
She had questions, too. Like, why hadn’t he come after her until now?
It was a reasonable question, but what did reason matter when the man she’d never stopped thinking about was holding her so close that she could feel his heart racing? All that heat. That power.
She made a small, choked sound. Rose higher on the balls of her feet, dug her hands into his thick, silken hair and dragged his mouth down to hers.
For one endless second, she thought she’d made a mistake.
Then a rough groan broke from his throat and he swept her into his arms.
“The bedroom…”
But her hands were already on him, pushing up his shirt, moving over his shoulders, his chest, his belly. He groaned again, set her on her feet, tore off his jacket and shirt, pushed her back against the wall. Blindly, he searched for buttons on the nightgown, for hooks or snaps and then he cursed, grasped the center of the neckline and tore the gown open.