A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

The tension in his muscles had eased, his color was returning. The thick fringe of his lashes fluttered open and revealed slightly dilated pupils. He caught me staring and with quicksilver speed, his expression shifted. The wounded creature transformed into a predator. A full sized tiger.

“Good for me that you were.” It was a sensual murmur that made my scalp prickle, and my throat tighten.

“Were what?” I mumbled, my train of thought derailed by the spell his smoldering eyes and voice were casting.

“Hanging around.”

How could two simple words sound so indecent? Everything south of my navel tingled. And then, very slowly, he reached out and caught a lock of hair that had escaped my ponytail. I held my breath as he coiled it around his index finger and tucked it behind my ear. Shocked and confused, I remained perfectly still when his hand didn’t leave me immediately. The pads of his fingers grazed the tender skin of my neck, under my ear, lingered there, happy to stay forever. But when his focused attention landed on my lips, I came to my senses and stood up, his hand falling away from me.

It must be the drugs, I told myself. The drugs made him forget who I was for a moment. “I should get you back to the house.” I couldn’t keep the anxiety out of my voice. It sounded high and far away.

He wouldn’t look at me as he planted his good leg on the ground, underneath himself, and offered out his arm. I braced myself to counterbalance his weight, more than twice my own, but as he levered himself up, the momentum carried him forward and his body slammed into mine.

Mistake. Big mistake.

It was unbearably intimate. My hair stood on end. I could feel his body as if the clothes between us didn’t exist. I looked up and found him gazing down with an openly suggestive expression, an unapologetic sensual smile on his lips. I tried to pry loose, tried to escape the lure of it, but he held on, gripping my shoulders tightly while the hard evidence of his virility pressed against my stomach and a flood of sensations screamed through me.

Step away. Step away right now!

It took the self-control of a Sohei warrior monk to peel myself away and search for his cane. “Let me help you get back,” I said in a timid voice, as I handed it to him. He agreed with a slight nod, his eyes boring into mine with superhuman intensity.

There was no way to avoid touching him again. Cautiously, I gripped him around the waist, placed my shoulder under his armpit for support, and began walking towards the house.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he murmured. I couldn’t answer, my wits deserting me. I forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand, careful not to steer him onto any irregularity in the grass.

All my senses were on high alert, my body vibrating with too much awareness. His blistering body heat. The heavy weight of his muscular arm draped over my shoulders. That addictive scent. It was a miracle that I managed to resist the urge to snuggle against him. Considering the significant height difference, we fit together rather perfectly.

“Can you please keep the computer? Nobody has to know about it.” I had never heard his voice this gentle, intimate. The voice of a lover.

“I can’t keep it because I can’t explain it to Mrs. Arnaud, and I would never lie to her.”

“A woman with scruples.” He barked a joyless laugh. “How original.” I pretended not to hear that, wasn’t about to open that can of worms.

Maybe it was the beautiful bucolic setting or the crisp, fresh air…or maybe it was the heat and hardness wrapped around me. In any case, the tension transformed into something pleasant, companionable. We walked in silence until the house came into view. But I could feel him thinking, strategizing his next move.

“I could tell her that I loaned you a computer for your studies.”

I knew he wouldn’t back down. He was clearly a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. Somewhere in the back of my mind that knowledge made me pause uneasily.

“Fair enough. But I’ll return it to you when I leave.”

“Leave? Where would you go?” His expression remained inscrutable while his grip on my shoulder tightened.

“Anywhere I’m accepted in a residency program.” I felt his steps slow fractionally, looked up and found him deep in thought. “Why do you drink so much?” I bit my lip when I realized I had voiced it out loud. He met my inquisitive gaze with apprehension.

“Who says I drink too much?”

“I do.”

He blew out a deep breath and stared ahead, avoiding eye contact. “It’s under control.”

“You can’t drink with all the medication you’re taking,” I said softly.

“I know––trust me, I know.” There was a sad resignation in his voice that made my heart ache for him.