Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)

Ignoring her question, he said, “Let me get that bandage off your arm. It’s wet.”

Michael sat down beside her, so close his thigh rubbed against hers, and it was almost impossible to concentrate on what he was doing. After several attempts he finally got the bandage off and tossed it in the trash can. The pad that had covered the stitches kept them dry.

“How does it look?” she asked. She was so close to him she could feel his heat.

“It’s healing,” he answered. Michael told himself to get up, and yet he couldn’t make himself move. He desperately wanted to lose himself in her. He needed to think about something else—anything else—and then he noticed she was holding a leather binder opened to the room service menu. “Did you want to order something to eat?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

They stared at each other a long minute without saying a word. The silence was heavy with anticipation.

She stood, thinking she should shoo him out of the room and get into bed and try to sleep. It wasn’t what she really wanted to do, though. Since Michael had walked into the police station, she had this indescribable need to be with him, and she simply didn’t want to resist any longer. She knew it was crazy and that a relationship with Michael could never go anywhere, but right this minute she didn’t care about consequences or being reasonable, and she wasn’t going to worry about what she would do if he rejected her. Whatever happened tonight, she was a big girl, and she could handle it.

“It’s been a long day. You should get some sleep,” Michael said, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. He was about to force himself to get up when she sat down on his lap, put her arms around his neck, and rested against him. Her head was tucked under his chin, and he could feel her heartbeat. “What are you doing? Get off me, Isabel.”

“I will... in a minute.” She decided to make up an excuse so she could hug him longer. “I’m cold and you’re nice and warm.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him while he again ordered her to get the hell off him. His actions contradicted his demand, but he wanted her too much to care. What was the harm of holding her for a few minutes? He was comforting her after her long stressful day and evening. Yeah, that was it.

He let out a long sigh. Comfort, my ass.