Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(18)
Chapter Seven
Three sharp raps sounded against Darya’s front door, jerking her out of a dead sleep and upright in bed. Her heart kicked and sputtered while she blinked and brought her eyes into focus. Soft early-morning sunlight slipped past her bedroom blinds and blanketed her room in a muted glow. The dim drone of traffic from the highway sounded in the distance, but otherwise everything was quiet. Peaceful.
She shoved her hair out of her face. Maybe she’d dreamed the sound. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been jolted awake by a nightmare, but she’d hoped after a six-month stretch without one, they’d finally ceased.
She dropped to her back, rolled toward the nightstand and fumbled for her phone. Her favorite wolf graphic glowed on the lock screen, a bold 7:02 a.m. displayed across the black-haired predator as he howled up to a full moon.
It had to be a dream. Beyond the occasional maintenance man, she never had visitors, and they’d never knock on her door this early. She laid back down and curled on her side, tucking one hand under her pillow as her eyes slipped closed.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Her eyes snapped open and she squeezed the phone still nestled in her palm so hard it groaned. No way that was her imagination. Pulse lurching to a jog, she swept her legs out from between the cool sheets and snagged her fluffy gray robe off the floor where it had fallen sometime in the night. She crept toward the living room, careful not to make a sound. It couldn’t be Ruslan. Knocking was too foreign of a concept for a man like him.
Then again, it could be he’d merely caught a lead as to where she lived and was fleshing her out. He might be arrogant, but he wasn’t stupid enough to draw unnecessary attention. She belted her robe with a firm tug, gently pressed her palms against the door’s cool surface and rolled up on her tiptoes for the peep hole.
Sunlight shafted from the eastern horizon, casting whoever stood outside in a vibrant halo. They lifted their hand to knock again, blocking the sun’s rays just enough to bring their face into focus.
Knox.
His knuckles connected with the thick wood and she jumped back, the lingering vibration zinging through her body as powerful as a live current.
“Just a minute.” She winced at her obviously frazzled voice and combed her fingers through her hair. So much for making a solid follow up impression. She might not wear heavy makeup most days, but she’d at least like to have a little on when face-to-face with a prospective boss. Even nearing her third year in America, she’d yet to shake the need impressed on most Russian women to primp and prepare before presenting herself in public.
On the bright side, her short robe was cute with silver worked into the gray chenille and did a decent job of hiding her stick figure. She flipped the deadbolt, braced long enough to suck in a steadying breath, then pasted on a bright smile as she opened the door. “Hello.”
Knox turned, his hands planted on his hips and a scowl on his face that made her rethink having opened the door.
Until his expression shifted.
One measly second and the predator on her doorstep morphed from impatient bystander to focused hunter. Slow and steady, his gaze trailed the length of her, the heat in his gaze thicker than the hottest Texas afternoon. His attention snagged on the deep neckline of her robe and, for a second, she’d swear he’d clued in to her lack of clothing underneath.
Her breasts grew heavy and her nipples puckered against the soft fabric. She fisted the lapels above her heart to try and cover her body’s all too willing reaction. “Is everything okay?”
Whether it was the huskiness in her voice or the question itself that broke his focus, she wasn’t sure, but his gaze shot to hers and his voice came out deep and rumbling like it was hard to speak it all. “I woke you up.”
“I worked late last night.” Granted, the last hour before she’d nodded off had involved a few toys and a whole lot of sexual frustration, but he didn’t need to know that. She stepped back enough to motion him through the doorway. “Do you want to come in? I can make some coffee.”
He glanced at the parking lot, frowned as though questioning the wisdom of being there and raked his hand through his already mussed hair. Instead of turning her down like she expected, he stepped across the threshold. “Coffee’s probably a good idea.”
She shut the door behind him, pausing a moment to watch him unhindered while he openly perused her space. The barest hint of his subtle but sexy scent lingered in his wake, a rich black currant mingled with woodsmoke that made her think of cold winter nights spent tangled and sweaty in bed with a lover. His navy blue T-shirt was a little rumpled and had a caption styled like a neon beer sign that read, Live Every Day Like It’s Taco Tuesday. On anyone else it would have looked cheesy, but on him it was cute.
And crazy sexy.
Forcing herself out of her visual indulgence, she hurried to the kitchen and set about prepping coffee.
“Sorry about waking you up,” he said. “I don’t sleep much. Sometimes I forget the rest of the world doesn’t suffer that problem.”
She stole a peek over one shoulder.
He stood with hands planted on each hip and stared up at the winter wolves painting JJ had given her for her first Christmas in America. Even without Knox’s attention aimed her direction, energy fairly poured off him. So much so, she wasn’t entirely sure plying him with more caffeine was a good idea. He already looked like he’d downed three pots of coffee and a few Red Bulls for good measure. “It’s okay. My alarm would have gone off in another thirty minutes anyway.”