The Renegade (The Moorehouse Legacy #3)(30)

When she went dead still under his touch, he knew she was hiding something from him.

“Where’s the pain?” he asked in a low voice. “Cassandra?”

He looked up. Her eyes were watching him from under lowered lids.

“Cassandra, where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t. Not really.”

Yeah, right. Then why was she so motionless? “Look, I know you don’t think you need a physician, but tomorrow you should go see Doc John.”

“I’m driving back to Manhattan tomorrow. First thing in the morning.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“The holidays.”

“When will you be back?”

“Right after New Year’s.”

God, that was forever. “Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

She shook her head and started to shrug out of her parka. Her hands were clumsy as she took it off and he eyed her flannel shirt. The thing was buttoned to the neck.

Instead of getting up and going to the desk, Alex nudged her hands aside.

“Let me do it,” he said gruffly.

“No, I can—”

“Yeah, right.” When she tried to bat him away, he muttered, “Don’t worry, I’ve seen it all before.”

That last comment was for him, not her. He couldn’t believe he was about to take off her clothes.

She was silent as he worked on the flannel, which was just fine with him. Any conversation would have gone nowhere because he was using all his focus to keep his hands from shaking as badly as hers were. Especially as he went for the button between her breasts.

Even though she was wearing a turtleneck under the shirt, he imagined he was seeing her with nothing on. The idea of all that creamy skin…

Her breath caught and he flicked his eyes to her face. She was watching his fingers.

He tugged the shirt free of her waistband and undid the last three buttons. Then he slowly slid the flannel from her shoulders. Now he didn’t look at her face. He couldn’t. His body was alive, the heat tightening his gut, hardening him.

He didn’t want her to know it.

“I can get the turtleneck,” she said roughly.

He nodded. “How about your pants?”

“I’m sure I’ll figure a way—”

“Button-fly, aren’t they? So let me do it.” When she didn’t say anything, he reached for the waistband. The top fastening came free easily. So did the next. And the one after that. And the fourth. And the final.

The jeans parted, revealing a thick pair of red long johns.

Alex swallowed and gripped the belt loops. “Lift your hips.”

Her body shifted, her breasts rising. He should only have drawn the jeans off her, but he hooked his thumbs under the waist of the long johns, too. He took it all down, moving over her thighs and her knees, tracing each inch of flesh that he exposed with his eyes.

Her panties were white silk.

He looked away, knowing he was about to fall on her like a starving man.

“Water’ll be warm now,” he said in a clipped voice as he folded up what he had removed. “I’ll give you my back for the rest. That bathroom’s too small to undress in, trust me.”

He struggled off the floor and limped over to the desk. When he sat down, he tried to look at the plans he’d been reworking. And could have been staring at a blank wall for all they held his attention.

As he heard the bed springs creak softly, he looked into the window and caught the reflection of her standing up. She gripped the edge of the turtleneck and slowly lifted it up and over her head as if she were stiff.

Alex saw her breasts in profile, the gentle swells covered with wisps of silk. He told himself to shut his eyes but couldn’t as her hands moved to the front of her bra and released a catch. With an arch that pushed taut tips out, she took the thing off and let it drop to the mattress. Then she slid her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and took them down to the floor.

He swallowed a groan. And watched her coil her hair up and tie it in place.

When she disappeared into the bathroom, Alex cursed himself, his body hard as the wooden chair he was sitting in.

He told himself he was going to stay right where he was.

Over and over again.





Chapter Nine




Cass stepped under the hot spray, craning her neck so the water hit her face and ran down her body. She was trembling, but not from the cold.

From Alex.

She was so pathetic. He’d been nothing but clinical in the way he’d touched her, especially while undressing her. But the sight of his long fingers unbuttoning her shirt and then her pants…His dark head lowered, the clean smell of him so close…She’d wanted to lie back on that bed and pull him on top of her.

Cass closed her eyes. Yeah, that was a good plan. Exactly what someone did when they were letting a man go. Right. Sure.

Except, she knew he would feel so perfect against her. He would be warm and heavy, those muscles shifting as he loved her body with his own.

From out of the past, she had a sudden image of him stepping naked from that bathroom on the boat—

Oh, dear Lord.

Her eyes popped open and she squeezed her arms around herself.

Oh, no.

She wanted him. And it wasn’t just now. She had…wanted him for a long time.