The Heartless Rebel. Lynn Harris Raye

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      The word sex, said with that wonderful accent of his, caressed across her senses and lit a flame inside her belly.

      Cara swung the door open. There was only one bed. She hesitated. She could go back down to the clerk and tell him he’d made a mistake, but then she’d have to leave Jack here before returning and helping him to another room. But she couldn’t do that to him, not when he was like this.

      With a sigh, she guided him over to the bed and sat him down on it. It wasn’t a very big bed. She would simply have to sleep on the floor.

      “A hot bath would probably do you good,” she said, frowning at him as he winced.

      One corner of his mouth crooked in a grin. “Do you plan to help me wash, then?”

      The heat of a blush rippled over her skin. Oh, yes. “No.”

      “Too bad.”

      “I’ll run the bath for you.”

      His expression was a mixture of devilishness and gravity. “I’m not going to be able to get into it without help.”

      Cara’s insides went hot and liquid all at once. She hadn’t thought of that, but of course he was right. She wanted to refuse, and yet she couldn’t. If it would help him to feel better at all, she had to get him into the tub.

      “Fine.”

      He’d already loosened his bow tie earlier and undid the first few studs of his shirt. Cara resolutely slipped the jacket from his shoulders, her heart thudding at his nearness and heat. She had to stand so close to him, her thighs touching his as she stood between his legs. She was conscious of the deep V of her blouse, conscious of his eyes on the slope of her breast. Her skin tingled, her insides tightening.

      “You really do smell wonderful,” he said.

      “It’s just soap.” She felt self-conscious standing so close to him, felt as if her skin was too tight, as if she would splinter apart if she let this be anything more than a routine task she had to perform.

      “Wonderful soap.”

      “You’re a smooth talker, Jack Wolfe,” she said as she undid his studs. “But I’ve heard it all, believe me.”

      She pulled his shirttails from his trousers. Slipping the shirt off, she tried not to react to the sight of his bare shoulders. They were muscled, not too much, but lean and hard and strong. It shouldn’t surprise her that he had the body of an athlete, but it was a bit disconcerting to find that what was underneath the clothes was every bit as enticing as the man in the tuxedo had been.

       Focus, Cara.

      Pulling the undershirt from his waistband, she lifted it very carefully over his head. Cara had to bite her lip at the broad expanse of bare, toned chest. He was tanned, with the kind of defined pecs and abs that made her giddy—but there was some light bruising over his rib cage where Bobby’s thugs had hit him. It would darken over the next few days.

      “If I felt better, I might take the way you’re looking at me as an invitation.”

      Cara’s gaze snapped up. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was looking at your bruises,” she said, though she imagined the blush blooming across her cheeks gave away the lie.

      He looked down. “It could be worse.”

      Her chest felt tight. He’d gotten those bruises because of her. Because he’d gone after Bobby when Bobby had hit her. Even if it had been unnecessary, even if she hadn’t needed his help, she had to acknowledge that he’d gotten hurt because he’d tried to help. It made her angry and sad at the same time.

      “I don’t see how it could be worse.”

      “Trust me, it could.”

      “Are you accustomed to getting beaten up, then?” She was trying to inject a bit of humor into the conversation, but his expression said that she’d failed miserably. His jaw looked as if it had been carved out of granite. His eyes were flat, bleak. She sensed she’d stumbled into quicksand. “Don’t answer that—”

      He lifted a hand, traced his fingers over her bottom lip. Her heart raced like the powerful engine in his car, but she didn’t move to stop him.

      She couldn’t. His touch felt too good, too raw and honest.

      “Are you afraid for me, Cara? Afraid of what I might tell you?”

      “I—” She didn’t know what to say. Her heart was a painful knot in her chest. She sensed they’d crossed some sort of demarcation line, that there would be no going back now. Ever. “I should run the bath,” she blurted.

      Because standing here while this man touched her wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. He evoked sensations she’d never experienced, sensations she wanted desperately to explore. But he was all wrong for her. This was wrong.

      He was a gambler, a card shark—he wasn’t the sort of man a girl could rely on. And she didn’t need a man in her life, anyway. It never turned out well. She needed to go, needed to run the bath—and she needed to get away from him as soon as possible, before her silly heart decided she liked his touch, his attention. Before she decided she wanted more.

      “Does it hurt?” he asked, his fingers ghosting over the split in her lip.

      “A little.”

      “Was this the first time?”

      It took her a moment to figure out what he meant. “Bobby never hit me before, no. I didn’t like him much, but the pay was good and the bonus he promised to those of us who came to Nice was even better.”

      “But you didn’t get the money.”

      Cara sighed. “No. I don’t suppose I ever will now.”

      Mama and Remy would be fine, though. Cara would find another job and keep sending money home just like always. And Evie was still there, working and helping Mama with Remy. A tiny voice in Cara’s head asked when she would get to do what she wanted in life—but she shoved it aside angrily. She would do what needed to be done. Always. Daddy might have abandoned the family, but Cara never would.

      She stepped back, out of Jack’s reach. His hand dropped. He looked like a beautiful dark angel, his torso bare and bruised. He was delicious, tempting, and she was appalled that she thought so. Appalled that if he weren’t hurt, she could picture herself pushing him back against the pillows, her mouth on his, their limbs tangling. She could picture the moment when he entered her body, the way she would shudder beneath him, her body rippling in one long, ecstatic wave.

      “You’re a cruel woman, Cara Taylor,” Jack said, pulling her from her tangled thoughts.

      “How can that possibly be?” she said softly. “I’m helping you, aren’t I? I could have left you for Bobby to finish off.”

      “I almost wish you had. It would be easier than watching you look at me like I’m an ice cream cone. Do you want to lick me, Cara? “

      Oh, God.

      There СКАЧАТЬ