and an afghan off the floor, he found an area free of glass and dropped to the carpet. He removed his shirt and boots, wondering what the old Iron Maiden slept in. Did she really wear a chastity belt? And, was it lined in barbed wire?
He remembered the pink lacy bra hanging from the fan and wondered if she had a pair of matching panties to go with it. A pink thong maybe. And what about that negligee he’d seen on the bed? The one taken away in an evidence bag.
Damn . Why was he doing this to himself?
He punched at the pillow, and slammed his head down. Shiloh Templar in a pink bra and panty set? More like a black leather dominatrix outfit.
He gulped as that image overtook him. Her in tight leather, with a whip.
Desire washed through him.
Shit . He did need professional help.
Nick squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, determined to get a handle on his overactive imagination. Shiloh was probably already asleep, and he knew she’d be appalled by his lustful thoughts.
Get a grip, Trent. She’s not a gorgeous cover model. She’s a thirty-five-year-old, power-hungry spinster with a bad attitude. Nothing sexy about that, right ? Unfortunately, what his brain thought was sexy was not in-tune with his cock, and that part would probably keep him awake all night.
CHAPTER NINE
Shiloh rolled over for the eighth time and berated herself for thinking about the man lying on her living room floor.
Why had Nicholas insisted on staying? She could take care of herself, should have ordered him home. She didn’t need a man for anything.
Images of him walking out of the shower, water beading off his perfectly toned body sent her senses on full passion alert. Her nipples tightened and she felt a strange warmth steal over her.
What the hell was wrong with her brain? What happened to the strong, always in control woman who now ran DNS?
Shiloh punched her pillow, angry that she couldn’t get a handle on her libido when she was around a certain man. Nicholas Trent did this to her. It was his fault.
Nothing had ever distracted her to the point that she couldn’t think of anything else. Damn him and his sexy, head-to-toe bronzed body.
Frustrated, she gave up trying to sleep. Her mind raced back to the shower and she considered his male attributes. The man had quite the package. That, she remembered with clarity. She also recalled his arrogant grin and his super white, utterly straight teeth. He had to have worn braces when he was in his teens…
The thought made her snort. That hadn’t been all that long ago.
So why the attraction? What was so appealing about a man ten years younger than her? Probably all those darn women’s magazines writing about how older women in their thirties and younger twenty-something men were sexual equals—both at their peak.
Shiloh wasn’t sure if she was at her peak or not, but what she did know was that her breasts were on alert, and they clearly needed to be caressed by a living, breathing man.
By Nicholas .
A loud thump instantly put her on alert. She slid from bed and reached for the weapon in her bedside bureau.
At her bedroom door she stopped to listen, then eased the door open and saw a light on in her kitchen. "Trent," she called softly, spotting a lump under an afghan, lying on the floor next to the sofa. He obviously hadn’t heard the noise, though how that was possible, she hadn’t a clue. He was supposed to be there to protect her. Not to sleep through another attack.
Shiloh pressed herself against the wall and made her way to the kitchen. She couldn’t believe any lunatic would have the nerve to come back the same night, especially with her and Nicholas home. But then, the creep could be there to do what he’d threatened—to kill her.
Her heart squeezed painfully as she continued toward the kitchen, her Glock primed to fire.
“Freeze, Asshole,” she ordered, rushing to the kitchen entrance. Her face paled when she saw Nicholas leaning against a
He remembered the pink lacy bra hanging from the fan and wondered if she had a pair of matching panties to go with it. A pink thong maybe. And what about that negligee he’d seen on the bed? The one taken away in an evidence bag.
Damn . Why was he doing this to himself?
He punched at the pillow, and slammed his head down. Shiloh Templar in a pink bra and panty set? More like a black leather dominatrix outfit.
He gulped as that image overtook him. Her in tight leather, with a whip.
Desire washed through him.
Shit . He did need professional help.
Nick squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, determined to get a handle on his overactive imagination. Shiloh was probably already asleep, and he knew she’d be appalled by his lustful thoughts.
Get a grip, Trent. She’s not a gorgeous cover model. She’s a thirty-five-year-old, power-hungry spinster with a bad attitude. Nothing sexy about that, right ? Unfortunately, what his brain thought was sexy was not in-tune with his cock, and that part would probably keep him awake all night.
CHAPTER NINE
Shiloh rolled over for the eighth time and berated herself for thinking about the man lying on her living room floor.
Why had Nicholas insisted on staying? She could take care of herself, should have ordered him home. She didn’t need a man for anything.
Images of him walking out of the shower, water beading off his perfectly toned body sent her senses on full passion alert. Her nipples tightened and she felt a strange warmth steal over her.
What the hell was wrong with her brain? What happened to the strong, always in control woman who now ran DNS?
Shiloh punched her pillow, angry that she couldn’t get a handle on her libido when she was around a certain man. Nicholas Trent did this to her. It was his fault.
Nothing had ever distracted her to the point that she couldn’t think of anything else. Damn him and his sexy, head-to-toe bronzed body.
Frustrated, she gave up trying to sleep. Her mind raced back to the shower and she considered his male attributes. The man had quite the package. That, she remembered with clarity. She also recalled his arrogant grin and his super white, utterly straight teeth. He had to have worn braces when he was in his teens…
The thought made her snort. That hadn’t been all that long ago.
So why the attraction? What was so appealing about a man ten years younger than her? Probably all those darn women’s magazines writing about how older women in their thirties and younger twenty-something men were sexual equals—both at their peak.
Shiloh wasn’t sure if she was at her peak or not, but what she did know was that her breasts were on alert, and they clearly needed to be caressed by a living, breathing man.
By Nicholas .
A loud thump instantly put her on alert. She slid from bed and reached for the weapon in her bedside bureau.
At her bedroom door she stopped to listen, then eased the door open and saw a light on in her kitchen. "Trent," she called softly, spotting a lump under an afghan, lying on the floor next to the sofa. He obviously hadn’t heard the noise, though how that was possible, she hadn’t a clue. He was supposed to be there to protect her. Not to sleep through another attack.
Shiloh pressed herself against the wall and made her way to the kitchen. She couldn’t believe any lunatic would have the nerve to come back the same night, especially with her and Nicholas home. But then, the creep could be there to do what he’d threatened—to kill her.
Her heart squeezed painfully as she continued toward the kitchen, her Glock primed to fire.
“Freeze, Asshole,” she ordered, rushing to the kitchen entrance. Her face paled when she saw Nicholas leaning against a
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