The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(65)

Climbing the rear stairs to his home, he wanted a shower and some shut-eye, but was only confident about getting the first.

The apartment was mostly dark, but he knew the place by heart so he walked through its shadows without a problem. He poked his head into his sister’s room. Her bedside lamp was on and Jaynie was asleep with a book wide open next to her. He was tempted to turn her light out, but figured that would only wake her up.

When he got to his room, he shut his door so he didn’t disturb her and he didn’t bother with lights or lamp switches. He striped naked and went for the shower, giving himself a quick soap up.

He was toweling himself off as he headed for his bed.

And that was when he saw Madeline Maguire was top of the thing.

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

Then he realized he was naked. He scrambled to cover himself, expecting her to sit up in a rush and say something. Except she was obviously out cold.

He walked a little closer to her.

She was stretched out on top of his navy-blue comforter, wearing some kind of black jacket and pants outfit. Which explained why he hadn’t seen her: she blended perfectly into the inky pool of the bed.

Oh…man. He couldn’t take a deep enough breath. Was this another dream? He hadn’t seen her car…but then he had come home the back way. Had she parked in front of the house?

And if this wasn’t a dream, why had she come?

“Mad?” When she didn’t move, he reached out and shook her shoulder a little. Her hair was unbound and all over the place, as if she’d been tossing and turning and he wanted to put his hands in it. “Mad, wake up.”

She said something softly. And then grabbed on to his hand and pulled him on top of her like a blanket.

Somehow, he managed to keep the towel around his hips as he fell forward. And after he landed on her, he had every intention of getting right back up again…but he didn’t stand a chance. She wrapped her arms around him and then her legs and that was it. He sagged against her in spite of his confusion.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” she murmured, arching her body.

Her hands found the lip of the towel and then the thing was just gone. And she was touching him, running her palms up and down his spine.

Spike hissed as he became instantly aroused, but he wasn’t about to do anything with the erection. No matter how much—

Oh, whoa…Her hands were at his hips now. Then moving underneath them, around to the front—

He tried to jerk out of the way. “Mad,” he croaked. “Wake up.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard as she touched him.

“I was so wrong to doubt you,” she said, nuzzling into his throat. “And I couldn’t get here fast enough to tell you. I’m so sorry…You smell so good.” Her lips pressed into the side of his neck. “Mmm…you just washed your hair…”

This was exquisite torture.

He did his best to stop his lower body from flexing and retreating and flexing again, but it found a rhythm, working his arousal within her hand.

Breathlessly, he groaned, “Mad…Mad, wake up.”

“Don’t want to wake up.” Her voice was a mere whisper, the words fuzzy on the edges. “Horrible since Memorial Day. Sad. Missing you. Cried. But now I have you.”

She certainly did.

Except the unhappy emotion in her voice calmed the mad lust in him. He lifted his head and brushed her hair back. The torment in her face broke his heart, and even more than her apology, it was what bridged the gap between them. He could deny her nothing when she was so obviously upset. Most especially not himself.

“I don’t want you to cry,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not over me.”

“Only over you. Love you.”

Spike stopped breathing all together, unsure he’d heard that right. If he had…

His heart started to pound in his chest. “What was that, Mad?”

“I love you.”

*

Mad came awake just as the words left her mouth.

At first she was totally confused. It seemed that somehow Spike was sprawled on top of her, a glorious, heavy weight, his body smelling like cedar soap and feeling very male…especially where her hands were touching him.

She blushed and let go. “Oh, God…I’m not dreaming, am I?”

As she looked up into his face, she expected to see some kind of anger. Instead, he was staring down at her with tenderness.

“No, you’re not,” he murmured. “But…maybe I am.”

“Did I just…say what I think I did?”

“Yeah.” In the dimness, she saw that his eyes were moving around her face. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. At this point, she figured she had nothing to hide, nothing to lose. “Look, Spike, I came here to tell you that—”

He cut her off with his mouth, kissing her deeply, his tongue a powerful surge between her lips. But then he rolled off and reached for something over the side of the bed. As he arched back and stretched his arm out, she saw every line of his body…including that incredible arousal.

Oh…good…heavens….

He dragged the edge of the comforter over and covered himself. “Mad, we need to talk.”