Sweet Temptation (Sweet #4)(47)

“You should move away from the window, Mrs. Roche,” Sam said from the doorway.

Serena sighed and walked over to the couch to sit by Faith.

Julie scowled. Damon’s hulking chauffeur had been tasked with babysitting the three of them for the day. What the hell kind of chauffeur was built like a tank?

The sound of the front door opening had all three women on their feet. Damon strode into the living room, Nathan and Gray on his heels.

“How is Angelina?” Julie asked anxiously. The men’s expressions were so grim that fear scuttled around her stomach.

“She’s safe,” Damon answered. Even as he spoke, he reached for Serena, and she went to him, melting into his embrace. “She’s with Micah.”

“You ready to go home?” Gray said to Faith.

She nodded readily and took the hand he extended to her.

“We’ll stay in touch. You all do the same,” Gray said as they headed for the door.

Julie glanced at Nathan, who stood silently to the side. The intensity in his gaze caused her to shiver. He looked positively ... scary.

“You have a choice,” Nathan said as he stalked into her space. “My place or yours.”

Too unsettled to think straight, she merely stared up at him, her brows furrowed.

“We can stay at your place or my place, but you don’t stay alone, so make your choice.”

She reached out to touch his chest, seeking reassurance. “Should I be worried?”

He caught her wrist, and surprisingly, his fingers trembled against her skin. He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her closed fist.

“I don’t want you to worry, honey, because I’m going to take care of you. Which means you aren’t staying alone. He saw us, Julie. He had to have seen us that night. He got to me. He can get to you.”

She swallowed nervously. “We can stay wherever you feel is best.”

He relaxed. Had he expected her to argue? Was she that confrontational? Sure, she liked her independence, but that didn’t make her a moron. She wasn’t going to sacrifice her safety or his over pride.

“I think we should stay at your place. He may not know where you live, but he sure as hell knows where I do.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

“Come on.”

He tugged lightly, pulling her into his embrace. For a moment he held her, and only the erratic rise and fall of his chest against hers signaled his unease. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed his hand over her hair.

“Let’s go home.”

She nodded and followed him toward the door.

All the way to her apartment she watched him intently. He held her hand between them and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a deceptively calm manner. He was wound tighter than a rubber band, and she wasn’t sure if it was the danger he thought she was in or if it was something else entirely.

Paranoia crept into her mind despite her best effort to keep it at bay

He’s not going to dump you, dumbass. Men don’t move in with you temporarily if they’re ready to move on.

Unless of course it was a man with an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. No doubt Nathan and all his buddies were extremely protective when it came to women. So was he protecting her because she was a woman or because she was his woman?

Shut up, Julie. Don’t ruin this.

When they got to her apartment, Nathan made her stay behind him until he made sure no boogeymen were prepared to jump out of her closets. She might have found it endearing and amusing if she weren’t so edgy.

He moved around her apartment like he was comfortable and at home. Lord knew he’d spent enough time there even if they’d never made the leap to official cohabitation. She frowned. Maybe she should have asked?

Screw this. She was a mess. She was tired and she wasn’t going to analyze stupid girly feelings when she was feeling particularly hormonal. Someone ought to market stupid pills. They’d make a damn fortune.

Nathan followed her into her bedroom, and before she could head to the bathroom to do her thing, he pulled her back and hauled her into his arms.

His mouth crashed down on hers. He stole her breath and devoured her lips in a greedy, passionate kiss. His hands fumbled carelessly at her clothes, ripping without care.

“Lose the pants,” he rasped between kisses.

Even as she hopped on one foot to get rid of her pants, he pulled frantically at her shirt. He forced her hands away from her jeans long enough to raise her arms over her head so he could get her shirt off. Then when she resumed shucking, he tore at her bra, ripping the lacy cups.

Even then the material didn’t come completely away, but her br**sts spilled free and he cupped them roughly in his palms.

With one foot, she kicked the pants several feet away just as his mouth closed over a nipple.

Her breath escaped in a hiss as pleasure exploded through her mind.

“God I love your br**sts.”

“I love that you love my br**sts,” she gasped out.

She clutched his head, holding him tighter.

“You’ve got too many damn clothes on,” she complained.

“Easily fixed.”

He picked her up, his mouth still sucking her nipple, and walked to the bed, where he dumped her onto the mattress. As she lay there, he loomed over her, his hands going to his pants.

God, she loved it when he stripped in front of her. She rose to one elbow, watching appreciatively as he yanked off his shirt. His muscles rippled as he moved his arms. His chest flexed and bowed and his six-pack quivered.