[BAD 07] - Silent Truth (32 page)

O ne towel between me and Abbie’s wet body
.

Hunter didn’t know if he could do this or not. He’d been all set to put antibiotic on her scrapes earlier, but she’d been sound asleep when he came up to her bedroom the first time.

He couldn’t bring himself to wake her.

So he’d stood there like an idiot and watched her sleep for a while. He’d been tempted to pull her clothes off just so she’d be comfortable until he realized he wouldn’t stop there.

By the time he walked back down to his office, he’d gotten his head straight about how to handle Abbie so he could move ahead with his next step on this mission when she woke up.

That was downstairs, before he walked in here and found her not just in a towel, but wet from the shower.

Smelling like fresh rainfall.

Water trickled down her collarbone, then turned south to dive between her breasts.

His tongue got hard thinking about following that path.

And he wouldn’t stop there.

He could spend hours tracing her body with his hands and mouth.

But some other guy got the life with lazy afternoons making love to the same woman day after day. He had a job to do. The sooner he got this done, the better. “Get on
the bed.”

“Are you crazy?” Abbie backed up until her legs bumped the bed, realized where she was, and sidestepped toward the dresser. “Get out of here.”

Good suggestion, even if it had been flung at him like the sharp point of a knife at a target, but her wounds needed tending and he was the only one who could do it.

The only one he’d allow to touch her.

Borys had volunteered to save Hunter the trouble.

Hunter had threatened to save Borys the trouble of breathing if got near Abbie when she had no clothes on.

And smelled fresh as a new day.

But blue lightning flashed in those eyes right now, warning him a storm was building.

“Just going to put ointment on your cuts so they don’t get infected.” He lifted the tube of ointment in his hand. “You get all your wounds cleaned?”

Her mouth puckered open then closed like a confused guppy. Wet curls dangled from where she’d failed to capture the entire mass in the towel wrapped around her head.

The bath sheet covered a lot, but wrapping her arms around her waist shoved her breasts high, threatening towel control.

Just put the damn ointment on and keep your hands to yourself.

Don’t think about her naked on the bed.

Or the floor. Or the bathroom sink. Or…

Hell, he’d almost stripped her on the side of a mountain.

“I can put the salve on.” She didn’t move from the dresser, as if that was the only safe place in the room.

“You can’t reach all of your back.” Once he made sure her cuts were clean and disinfected, he’d exit. Immediately. But that had to happen soon. He knew one way to get her moving. “What’re you afraid of ?”

Her shoulders clicked back at that.

The little termagant didn’t like having her courage challenged. He didn’t doubt her courage. She had too much for his peace of mind. She’d put herself at risk for others without a second thought for her own safety.

“Just do it with me standing up,” she suggested.

“It’ll be easier if you’re lying down.” He hoped. Less chance of gravity taking that towel off her body.

One slip and it would be all over. Even he had his limits.

She relented, heading for the bed, where she yanked the towel off her head and dropped it on the floor, then climbed on the blue corduroy bedspread facedown.

Curls tumbled wildly.

His fingers itched to touch the soft twists.

She grumbled to herself and lifted up. Then she shoved the pillows to the side and loosened her bath sheet, pulling each side out from under her body until none of the towel was caught between her and the bed.

She scooted over, taking the towel with her and leaving him room on the edge. “Well? What else do you want me to do?”

Peel the rest of that towel off, kiss me like you did earlier outdoors, and lock your legs around my waist.

His jeans were getting tighter by the minute. If he stood there any longer and she got a look at his growing erection she wouldn’t let him touch her. Not after what had happened on the mountain. If he did that again he
should
be decked for teasing her. He moved over and sat on the bed next to her hip so she couldn’t see the bulge in his jeans without twisting around.

The huff she released sounded like a whispered curse.

He pinched the top edge of the towel and rolled it down off her shoulders. Then he cursed.

“What?” she asked.

“You’ve got one nasty scratch on your back.”

“What are you angry about? My fault. Not like you pushed me down the hill.” She turned her head, facing the window, and settled herself again.

But it
was
his fault. He should have anticipated anything she might have done, even trying to leave the cabin. He opened the tube of antibiotic cream with a topical painkiller he’d gotten a while back from Mako—a BAD agent with an MD who could patch up just about anything long enough to keep an agent alive until they made it to the hospital.

Rubbing the salve between his hands to warm it, he opened his palms and placed one hand on her back.

She flinched. “I’m okay.”

He slowly started smoothing the medicine across her shoulders and down the sides of her arms.

She sucked in a breath.

“Sorry. Those spots need the most attention.”

“It’s okay.” Her bottom wiggled, settling again.

Don’t move, Abbie.
He finished spreading the cream on her back and slid the towel down a little more, exposing a few scratches on one cheek. He continued wiping the cream across the gentle rise.

She flexed her bottom.

Don’t stare at her pert butt. Don’t think about anything
but clinical application of the cream.

Tell that to his loins getting heavier by the minute.

He ran his hand back and forth over her right cheek. Sweat beaded along his neck. She had a few scratches on her front, but he was done. “Think that’s all the tough areas to reach.”

“I’m over my modesty attack,” she murmured. “Go ahead and finish. Not like you haven’t seen most of my backside by now and I’m too stiff to move.”

He was too stiff, too, but he doubted sharing that would draw any sympathy from her. His hand shook at the thought of touching her any longer and restraining himself.

Unbelievable. His hand had never shaken while handling a woman.

But he wanted to touch Abbie everywhere. Slide his fingers down between her legs and brush over the tender skin, tease her until she moaned his name.

She’d have let him on the mountain, before he practically stroked her, then walked away.

He peeled the towel all the way off her backside, sure he was opening a door he couldn’t slam shut again.

She flexed her legs that had small scrapes.

After drawing a deep breath of resolution, he reloaded cream on each palm and walked to the end of the bed. Leaning over, he started at the back of her calves, rubbing up and down.

Moving higher to reach the top of her thighs, he massaged her muscles with his thumbs all the way back down.

He paused. Had she moaned? He kept massaging her thighs and unintentionally brushed the juncture between her legs when he stretched forward.

A shiver raced along her lower body.

The beads of sweat on his neck joined forces and trickled down his back.

He couldn’t do this.

He
could
do this, but it would end with him turning her over to spread her legs and start kissing there.

If her earlier response was any indication, she had a hair trigger. He’d love to see her face when his finger brushed over and over and over that trigger until she exploded.

The only thing stopping him?

He couldn’t seduce her the way he would another woman.

Because she wasn’t like any of the others.

Abbie’s emotions made her vulnerable. She cared too deeply. She wasn’t like the ice maidens he’d taken to bed who burned off pent-up energy the same as him, then forgot the encounter a day later.

Lifting the edge of the towel, he wiped his hands until he felt certain no cream was left and put the cap back on the tube.

“You done?” she asked.

“Yes.”
Stick a fork in me.
He started for the door.

“Hunter?”

When he turned back, she’d leaned up on one elbow and had a fisted handful of the towel in front of her breasts.

“What?”

“You are so cranky.” She studied him, her eyes taking
his full measure from top to bottom, pausing at the bulge in his jeans.

“Anything else?” He was snarling like a wounded beast, but goddammit, did the woman have to drag this out any longer?

“Just one thing.” She pushed hair off her face, but the more her thick curls dried the less direction they accepted. “I’m not sure I can still reach all the spots that need… attention.”

He told his feet not to take a step forward and informed his dick she did
not
mean that the way it sounded. She was exhausted and hurting. She was shy. She probably wanted him to massage her legs some more, or her back.

She was too damned nice to be lying there in his bed with no clothes on.

“Do the best you can.” Now his feet had to move. Walk out.

“You mean
handle
this myself.” A shapely eyebrow quirked.

No, she was not inviting him to climb into bed with her. He had to keep telling himself that even though he’d dearly love to have this one time with her.

Especially since the plan he just gave Joe had so many holes he expected to fall through one and never be found again.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” she asked, getting a bit cranky herself.

Dick to brain:
She does want what we thought.

“Well, hell.” She slapped her hand on the bed and flipped over on her side. “Guess I just made a fool of myself yet again. What’s that, like… three times? You’re
clearly not interested.”

“Abbie—”

“Go away.”

He wished he could. But she’d been under his skin for six years and if he didn’t scratch that itch soon his skin was going to burst from stretching too tight.

“Thought you’d at least wonder what
we
would have been like.”

He smiled at her snippy tone, and damn his unsupportive feet, they took a step toward the bed. And another, until he stood beside the bed.

“Next time I go looking for a man—”

That did it. She was not going looking for a man. He straddled her legs. He slipped his hands under her middle, lifting her up and back against his chest, silencing her.

He cupped her breasts, using the tips of his fingers to lightly scrape her nipples, which immediately peaked.

She rewarded him with a gasp of pleasure. He kissed her neck, her skin was warm and smelled of peaches. She arched her head back. His conscience reminded him she’d been hurt once already.

“Abbie, I’m not—”

She growled at him. “Let me guess. You have no idea what’s going to happen and may not be around after this. I get it. I’m not really naïve.”

He smiled and whispered, “You’re really something, sweetheart.” He moved a hand down her stomach, slowly, lightly touching her.

“Oh, yes. That’s… nice.” Her body shook.

His muscles tightened with the effort of waiting to get inside her. He nuzzled her throat and raised his hand up, rubbing his open palm across her beaded nipples.

She gasped again and whimpered, her hips moving. Her soft bottom brushed against the front of his jeans. Electricity bolted through him.

He took a breath and filled his hand with her breast. Heaven. Lifting a finger, he traced the outline of her nipple, then skipped back and forth across the tip.

Her fingers gripped his thighs. She trembled, holding tight until he moved his fingers down to the juncture of her legs and slipped inside.

One touch and a hard shudder ran through her. The woman was amazing. He flipped her around, unwilling to have this over so quickly. The minute she faced him, her hands clasped his cheeks and she kissed him with lips made of fire and honey. He ran his fingers into her gossamer curls and let his tongue meet hers in playful battle. Fingers scrambled down his chest to his pants… unzipped… then dove inside to curl around him.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the contact and growled into the next kiss, the need to feel himself inside her roaring through his veins. She kissed his neck and stroked him.

The world would disintegrate before his eyes if she did that one more time. He lifted her until her legs went around him and reached beneath her to finger the damp folds.

The high-pitched noise that escaped her sounded strangled.

Stroking his middle finger slowly in and out, he brushed his thumb over her tender skin in sync. She dug her nails into his back, shaking with strain.

Whispering to her what he wanted to do to her, he changed the rhythm of his fingers, moving faster.

She bowed up and back, muscles taut. “Don’t… don’t… stop.”

Mesmerized watching her, he didn’t stop. She cried out, panting, then fell against him in a boneless heap. Tears hung on her lashes. He kissed the mouth that had started this brushfire. Her hands cupped his face in so tender a gesture he kissed her deeper.

When he lifted his head to look at her she smiled at him.

God, what a gift.

Her eyes fluttered shut. He reached for her breast.

A high beeping alarm went off, freezing his hand.

His pulse jumped, but not to high alert. That alarm was just a warning someone had crossed the first line of defense half a mile down the mountain.

Borys would check it and notify him immediately of any—

A second alarm sounded, bells chiming throughout the house.

Abbie’s eyes flew open. She grabbed him. “What’s that?”

“Trouble. Get dressed.”