Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)(41)

“We don’t have a carpet,” he pointed out. No one should look that sexy when they first woke up. Everything went out of his head, leaving a burning desire to pull her into his arms, take possession right there.

“Who needs a carpet, you’re making train tracks,” she laughed, sweeping a hand through her unruly hair, the action pulling her nightshirt taut across her breasts.

Jess let his breath out slowly. “Very funny. Little comedian, aren’t you? Get down here.”

She grinned at him, a saucy, teasing grin. “I don’t think so, Jesse. You sound like a grumpy old bear again. Patsy call?”

“I’d like to get my hands on you.” He meant it as a threat but a vivid picture of her writhing naked beneath him rose up to taunt him. He groaned aloud. Time was catching up with Saber Wynter fast.

“Yeah?” she challenged, tilting her chin, blue eyes dancing with mischief. “What’d I do this time? Leave my nylons hanging in your private bathroom? Did your midnight caller find them and get angry?”

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he asked.

Her foot slid over the bottom railing, calling attention to her bare legs. “If I’m getting to you, I’m having a great time.” She laughed at his pained expression.

“Will you get down here?” he demanded, exasperated.

“I need a shower. And I have to dress. It wouldn’t do to have Patsy catch me parading around in my night things.”

“I could care less if Patsy walks in. Damn it, Saber, I’m running out of patience.”

“Oooh!” Dramatically she clutched at her heart. “I’m so scared!”

Jess couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing. “You’re such a brat. I’m coming up.”

“No!” Alarmed, Saber caught at the banister. “I’ll be right down. Really, Jesse, I promise. Five minutes.”

He wanted to kiss that look right off her face. She could wreak havoc with his body so easily. “All right.” He conceded her the time grudgingly. How was he ever going to gain the upper hand with her, when all it took to wrap him around her little finger was a flashing look from her blue eyes?

He entered the kitchen to make her fresh coffee. Upstairs the water went on and he found himself smiling. She took more showers than anyone he knew. The smile faded as the image of the radio station’s night soundman rose up.

Brian Hutton. Tall, muscular, good looking, he was twenty-seven years old, closer to Saber’s age. At least he thought so. He didn’t even know her age. How close were they? Funny, he had never thought to be threatened by Brian. Saber had worked with him every night for ten months, nearly eleven, and she talked about him often. Why would the man follow her home from work?

Everyone at the station knew Saber lived with Jess, at least half of his employees thought she was sleeping with him. He had never corrected the assumption.

Saber ran into the room, barefoot, hair still damp in little ringlets all over her head, eyes dancing at him. “Did I make it?” Abruptly the smile faded and she hurried to his side, sweeping back the hair that was falling across his forehead. “What have you done to yourself?”

His body stirred uncomfortably, jeans suddenly tight. “You’re two minutes late.” He tried to sound severe.

“Jesse, answer me. You cut your head. It looks bad. There’s bruising and swelling. Maybe you should call the doc.”

He caught her wrist and pulled her hand away, irritated that she could see the evidence of his fall. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

Saber heard the bite to his voice, hesitated, and then poured herself a cup of coffee. “So what’s up, caveman?” She brushed fingertips along the corner of his mouth, sending white heat coursing through his blood. “Stop frowning at me, Jesse. Your mouth is bound to freeze that way.”

Strong white teeth snapped at and caught her index finger and drew it into the moist cavern of his mouth. His eyes burned black velvet as he used his tongue to caress her finger. She wasn’t going to embarrass him, and he felt the tension in him drain away.

Faint color tinged her cheeks, blue eyes skittered away from his. She pulled her hand back as if he had burned it. “So what’s this all about?”

He studied her small, slender form, the ribbed cotton scoop-neck T-shirt, the figure-hugging black denim. She looked ready to flee at the slightest provocation. He resisted the urge to capture her wrist. So close, yet so far away. He wanted her to make up her own mind, bind herself to him. At the same time, he wanted to just take possession finally, irrevocably, and never let her go, the hell with her choices.

“Are you going to sit down or are you going to be flittering all over the house like a little butterfly? I can just see us having a decent conversation with me following you all over.”

She perched on the countertop, regarding him warily over the rim of her coffee mug. “Conversation? Uh-oh. What have I done?”

“What makes you think you’ve done anything?”

Her bare foot tapped the cupboard. “I know you so well, dragon king, you only get that particular look on your face when you’re burning to give me one of your lectures.”

“Do I give you lectures?” He frowned.

She grinned. “Oh, I don’t mind. I think you’re kind of cute when you do, and I don’t really listen anyway.”