Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(56)

She shook her head, mystified. “Thank you, but … Byron doesn’t need a shock collar.”

That drew a brief grin from him. “It’s not a shock collar.” Taking her by the shoulders, he steered her to the door that led to the back patio. “It’s for that.”

A small Plexiglas square in a frame had been set into the wall beside the main door. Alex pressed a button on the remote control, and the clear pane slid upward with a quiet whoosh.

Her mouth fell open. “You … you put in a cat door?”

“The collar will activate it automatically, but only when Byron approaches directly. So nothing else will get in, including spiders.” At Zoë’s silence, he added, “It’s a gift. I figured you’d be busy enough with your grandmother, you didn’t need to be opening the door a dozen times a day for a cat.” Alex pointed to a sticky note on a nearby cabinet. “Those are directions for how to use it. The instruction manual is in the—” He broke off as Zoë reached for him. Reflexively he snatched her wrists in his hands before she could put them around his neck. The remote control clattered to the floor.

“I was just going to hug you,” Zoë said on a breath of laughter. No gift had ever pleased her as much. She was too filled with delight to be cautious.

His grip on her wrists was gentle but inexorable. His face had gone taut, grim, as if he’d just found himself in mortal danger.

“One hug,” she whispered, smiling.

Alex shook his head slightly.

Zoë watched, fascinated, as a band of color crossed the crests of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The front of his throat rippled with a swallow. How remarkable his eyes were, striations running through the light blue-green irises like spokes of starlight. He looked at her as if he wanted to eat her alive. And instead of being nervous, she was filled with giddy excitement.

Since he was still holding her arms, she lifted on her toes and leaned close, until her lips caught gently at his. She kept her wrists yielding in his grip, understanding that he was fighting some inner battle. She sensed the moment that he lost. Slowly he brought her hands behind her back, pressing them toward the base of her spine until her br**sts were arched upward. His mouth came to hers. He held her in a way that made movement impossible—she could only answer him with her mouth, her lips clinging desperately.

Still kissing her, he let go of her wrists and lifted his hands to her face, cradling her cheeks. He seemed determined to pull in every sensation and make it last forever. Neither of them was rational, there was no room left for thought. Only for feeling. Only for wanting. Zoë reached under his T-shirt until the skin of his back was against her palms. She drew them slowly along the muscles on either side of his spine. He reacted with a quiet grunt and pushed her back against the edge of the wooden countertop, and tugged the front of her shirt upward. His breath was rough, but his hands were gentle on her br**sts, squeezing and stroking as he kissed her. He licked inside her mouth, hot and deep. His fingers slipped beneath the top edge of her bra until his knuckles brushed a sensitive peak. The tender flesh went tight, and she felt the sweet ache of his touch all through her. He caught the tip and tugged, gently harrowing until the pleasure made her writhe. She struggled to get closer to him, rising on her toes, while he kissed her as if he were feeding on her, open-mouthed and wet and slow—

Someone opened the front door.

Too startled to react, Zoë felt Alex yank her shirt back down. He grabbed a box from the island and carried it to the counter area near the sink.

“We’re here,” Justine announced, shouldering her way inside the cottage with a box in her arms. “Duane’s right behind me. Wow. Would you look at this place. Fantastic!”

It was difficult to think past the cloud of dream-colored heat that surrounded her. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Zoë asked, feeling swoony and unsteady as she retrieved the tiny remote control from the floor.

“It’s beautiful and a great investment,” Justine replied. “I’ll have no trouble renting this place out someday. Nice work, Alex.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, using a jackknife to open the box.

“Out of breath already, old man?” Justine asked with a grin. “It’s a good thing Duane’s here to help with the heavy lifting.”

“Look at this, Justine,” Zoë said hastily, before Alex could say a word. “Alex installed a special door for Byron.”

The electronic pet door was duly admired, while Duane entered the cottage with another couple of boxes.

Duane was a good-hearted man who attended his biker church regularly. He tended to be rowdy and impulsive, but he was loyal to his friends and always ready to help someone in need. His appearance was so intimidating—muscle-bulked arms protruding from leather vests, both arms sleeved with tattoos from wrist to shoulder, his face half obscured with boot-shaped sideburns—that it had taken Zoë a while to feel comfortable around him. But he seemed devoted to Justine, with whom he’d been going out for almost a year.

“I’m not the falling-in-love type,” Justine had once told her breezily, when Zoë had asked if the relationship with Duane might deepen into something permanent.

“You mean you’re leery of falling in love, or is there something about Duane—”

“Oh, I’m not leery of it. And Duane is great. It’s just that I can’t love anyone.”