Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(103)

She missed Connor. She started to pull on her jeans, and then looked down at her thin gauze summer nightgown with the embroidered pink flowers. She thought of his reaction to . her baggy Victorian nightdress. "A calculated cocktease," he'd called it.

Hmm. Well, then. She would just have to see if he liked the skimpier version just as well. No one was awake to see but him.

She crept barefoot down the stairs, disarmed the alarm, and stepped out onto the porch. The night breeze was damp and chilly, whipping the thin fabric around her thighs. She felt Connor's eyes lock onto hers, through the car window, across the dark lawn. She was very conscious of her nipples, pressing against the thin fabric.

Connor pushed the passenger side door open and beckoned to her. She ran across the dew-soaked grass and slid into the Cadillac, scooting over on the slippery leather seat to press herself against his warmth. Her feet were covered with clinging blades of grass.

His arms went around her. "What the hell do you think you're doing out here? You're half naked!" His voice was sharp with outrage.

"I wanted to show you my nightgown," she said. "I wanted to see if you liked it."

"Oh, Christ." He flung his head back against the seat. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"I just missed you, that's all," she said. "I was watching you from my bedroom window. My brave, noble knight in the shining Cadillac."

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it tenderly front and back, and then pressed it against the hard, thick length of his erection. "I like your nightgown, babe," he said. "How noble is that?"

She stroked him from base to tip. Her fingers tightened appreciatively around his thick shaft. "Oh, very noble, Connor. Very."

He covered her hand, held it still. "Don't, Erin. That's enough."

"Why not? Everyone's asleep. Open your jeans for me and I'll practice some of my bad girl skills. I've never done anything in a car before. Except for when you kissed me at the airport. That counts."

"I think it does, too. But still, no."

Her fingers tightened, rubbed Mm, insisting. "Don't you want—"

"You know damn well how much I want it, but I'm not comfortable letting down my guard in a car parked out on the street. I'm wide open when you do your sex goddess routine on me."

"So come up to my room." She pressed her lips against his hot face, rubbed her cheek against the rasp of glinting beard stubble. "We'll lock the doors, set the alarms. We'll be as safe as it's possible to be."

He clapped his hand over his eyes. "Yeah, right. That'd go over great with your mom. You saw what she did to that Jag."

"Don't be silly," she said. "You're no Billy Vega, and besides, she already likes you." She rushed over his snort of derision. "My bedroom is in the attic, on the opposite side of the stairs from Mom's bedroom. They're asleep, Connor. They're exhausted. No one will ever know."

"You are lethal, sweetheart," he whispered. "Like Eve in the garden. Come on, baby, just one little nibble. See how shiny the apple is? Yum, yum."

She nibbed against him so that her neckline gaped low. "The apple is juicy and sweet, Connor," she said. "I promise, you'll love it."

His hand slid up over her hip, her waist, and cupped her breast. She arched against him. "Come upstairs, and you can take this nightgown off me and make love to me, Connor. I never sneaked a boy into my childhood bedroom, ever. I need to make up for lost time."

"I'm not a boy, Erin," he said. "I'm a man. That makes it different. That makes it kinky."

She cradled his face and kissed the frown line between his brows. "And I'm a woman," she said quietly. "Which makes it OK."

He stared into her eyes for a long moment "Tell me what your bedroom looks like."

The odd question disoriented her. "Why don't you just come up and see for yourself?"

"Just tell me, so I can see if it's anything like my fantasies."

The longing in his voice silenced her, leaving her breathless. But only for a moment.

"Um… the wallpaper has a pattern of pink rosebuds," she began. "The bed is a maple four-poster, from my great-grandmother. There's a double wedding ring quilt in a million different shades of pink. Beneath it there's a dusty rose duvet. Dusty rose pillows with lace ruffles. There's a braided rag rug on the parquet floor, like the one in my apartment, but this one is in shades of peach and cream and pink. There's a washstand with a basin and pitcher. A maple dresser set and vanity, a matching armoire with beveled mirrors. Eyelet lace curtains. It's a very pretty room. I've always loved it."

His eyes glittered like a wolf's in the moonlight. "God, Erin. That just makes me want to explode."

She stifled a giggle. "Eyelet lace curtains turn you on?"

"No. You turn me on. You, in the middle of all that fluffy chick stuff. Lace and rosebuds. I could come in my pants just thinking about it."

"I have flower-scented candles," she offered. "And there's ajar of rose petal potpourri on the vanity. The whole room smells like roses."

"Any stuffed animals lying around?" he demanded. "Dolls? I'll feel like a sleaze if you've got dolls in there."