Fantasy Lover (Dark-Hunter .5)

Chapter 3

Grace did what most any woman would do while confronting a naked man in her living room. She screamed.

Then she ran for the front door.

Only she forgot about the cushions that were still on the floor where they'd piled them. Tripping over two, she went sprawling.

No! she silently cried as she landed in a painful heap. She had to do something to protect herself.

Terrified and shaking, she scrambled through the cushions, looking for a weapon. Feeling something, she pulled her hand up, only to find a pink bunny slipper.

Dammit! Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the wine bottle. Grace rolled toward it and grabbed it in her hand, then whirled to face her intruder.

Faster than she could react, he wrapped his warm hand around her wrist, tenderly immobilizing it. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

Good gracious, but his deep masculine voice was rich, with a thick, lilting accent that could only be described as musical. Erotic. And downright yummy.

Her senses dulled, Grace looked up and...

Well...

Quite honestly, there was only one thing she saw, and it made her face hotter than Cajun gumbo. After all, how could she miss it since it was just an arm's reach away. And it was such a large it, too.

In the next instant, he knelt by her side and gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. He ran his hands over her scalp as if feeling for an injury.

Her gaze feasted on his chest. Unable to move or look past all that incredible skin, Grace fought the urge to moan at the intensely wicked sensation of his fingers in her hair. Her entire body burned from it.

"Did you hit your head?" he asked.

Again that strange, glorious accent that reverberated through her like a warm, soothing caress.

She stared at the wealth of golden, tawny skin that seemed to beckon her hand to reach out and touch it.

He practically glowed!

Compelled, she wanted to see his face, to see for herself if the whole of him was as incredible as his body.

As she looked up, past the sculpted muscles of his shoulders, her mouth dropped. The wine bottle slid from her numbed fingers.

It was him!

No! It couldn't be.

This couldn't be happening to her, and he couldn't be naked in her living room with his hands in her hair. Things like this just didn't happen in real life. Most especially not to average people like her.

And yet...

"Julian?" she asked breathlessly.

He had the sleek, powerful build of a finely toned gymnast. His muscles were hard, lean, and gorgeous, and well defined in places she didn't even know a man could get muscles. On top of his shoulders, his biceps and forearms. His chest and back. His neck to his legs.

You name it, it bulged with raw, masculine strength.

Even it had started to bulge.

His golden hair fell in haphazard waves around a cleanshaven face that looked as if it really had been carved from stone. Unbelievably handsome and captivating, his face was neither pretty nor feminine. But it was definitely breathtaking.

Full, sensuous lips curved into a halfhearted smile, displaying a set of dimples that cut deep moons into his tanned cheeks.

And those eyes.

Gracious!

They were the clear celestial blue of a perfect cloudless sky with a tiny band of dark blue highlighting the outer edges of his irises. His eyes were searing in their intensity and shining with intellect. She had a feeling his looks, really could kill.

Or at the very least, devastate.

And she was certainly devastated at the moment. Captivated by a man too perfect to be real.

Hesitantly, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. She was amazed when his arm didn't evaporate, proving all this was just a drunken hallucination.

No, that arm was real. Real and hard and warm. The skin beneath her palm flexed into a powerful muscle that made her heart pound.

Stunned, Grace could do nothing but stare.

Julian arched a puzzled brow. Never before had a woman run away from him. Nor discarded him after she'd spoken the summons's chant.

All the others had waited in expectation for his incarnation, then fallen instantly into his arms, demanding he pleasure them.

But not this one...

She was different.

His lips itched to smile as he swept his gaze over her. Her thick, sable hair fell to the middle of her back, and her light gray eyes looked like the sea just before a storm. Gray eyes flecked with tiny bits of silver and green that shone with intelligence and warmth.

Her smooth, pale skin was covered with little light brown freckles. She was every bit as adorable as her smooth, accented voice.

Not that it would have mattered.

Regardless of her looks, he existed only to serve her sexually. To lose himself in the savoring of her body with his, and he fully intended to do just that.

"Here," he said, taking her by her shoulders. "Let me help you up."

"You are naked," she whispered, looking him up and down in astonishment as they came to their feet. "You are so naked."

He tucked the ends of her sable hair back behind her ears. "I know."

"You are naked!"

"We've established that."

"You're happy and naked."

Confused, Julian frowned. "What?"

She looked down at his arousal. "You are happy," she said with a pointed glance. "And you're naked."

So, that was what they were calling it in this century. He would have to remember that.

"And this makes you uncomfortable?" he asked, amazed by the fact that a woman would mind his nudity when no one ever had before.