Read Online Endless Night by Maureen A. Miller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maureen A. Miller
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panting and stared up into the heart of the storm, wondering if the rain could erase what just happened. If the passion that boiled in her blood could seep into the puddles around her and drain away.
Chapter Six
She had to get inside. Any longer out here and they would die of hypothermia and mortification, although hypothermia seemed an illogical threat considering her face burned to the touch.
Megan chanced a look at the man now rising from the ground. An image of Neptune using his rugged upper-body strength to drag himself from the sea passed before her. From this perspective, Jake looked taller than ever. He was a dark, drenched, handsome giant, and she could still feel every intimate texture of him, as if she had been branded. To her dismay he was holding a hand out. Megan needed the assistance, but couldn’t chance the lure of his touch again.
What the hell had she been thinking?
For one minute, she wanted more than anything in the world to kiss this dark stranger—in the middle of a god-awful nor’easter, nonetheless .
Heck, not just kiss him. She didn’t want to stop until his naked, wet flesh wrapped around her and steam misted off the ground.
Now Jake was looking down at her with an indolent grin and stormy shadows of desire in his eyes.
“Give me your hand,” he commanded over the din of the rain.
Dammit, she was a grown woman. She could handle this man. She had survived the past year. She had outwitted a murderer. Why couldn’t she take Jake Grogan’s hand?
Because he was no less dangerous.
Determined to get inside, Megan wrapped her fingers around Jake’s wrist and felt herself hoisted so fast she stumbled and reached out for balance. Her palms fell between the gap in Jake’s jacket and landed flat against his chest. A band of muscles covered the pounding of his heart, and again it occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one suffering the pangs of temptation. Jake watched her with an intensity that made her tremble, but he didn’t touch her. He stood with his arms at his sides, waiting to see what she would do. Megan kept her hands on his chest until the contact became too hot to handle and she snapped them back.
“Get inside.” His husky whisper carried over the rain.
Were it not for the suction of the mud, Jake thought Megan would have executed Olympic speed to sprint to the porch. Awkward steps brought her to the deck where she watched with apprehension as he climbed the stairs behind her.
A rattle on the slanted roof alerted them that the precipitation had condensed into something more substantial. Ice bounced off the ground like a spilled gumball machine.
“Wonderful.” He scowled.
Used to the routine, Jake pulled off his mud-caked boots and set them next to the front door. He could hear the steady plop plop plop of drops leaking from his sleeves. Water dripped from his hair, and his pure state of filth and saturation was helping to abate some of the desire that had just ripped through him .
My God , where did that come from? He had probably terrified Megan. She didn’t know him. She might have thought he was going to rape her out there—and there would be no one to call for help.
“Megan, look—”
“I think I’m going to send you down to the cellar.”
“Hey,” he started, “I know I’ve been bad, but—”
“The cellar,” she sighed, “is where the washer and dryer are.” Midnight eyes coursed his body, lingering enough to stir what he was trying so hard to ignore. “There’s absolutely no hope for those clothes. They have to go right in the wash.”
Megan wrenched her eyes up from the mud-caked jeans and added, “You’ve been bad?”
When she threw his declaration back in his face, Jake was suddenly uncertain.
“Well—I mean, what happened out there—” He looked toward the door and saw through it, to the pool of mud and the image of her body splayed so intimately atop him. “I’m sorry.” He sobered. “I don’t normally act like
Chapter Six
She had to get inside. Any longer out here and they would die of hypothermia and mortification, although hypothermia seemed an illogical threat considering her face burned to the touch.
Megan chanced a look at the man now rising from the ground. An image of Neptune using his rugged upper-body strength to drag himself from the sea passed before her. From this perspective, Jake looked taller than ever. He was a dark, drenched, handsome giant, and she could still feel every intimate texture of him, as if she had been branded. To her dismay he was holding a hand out. Megan needed the assistance, but couldn’t chance the lure of his touch again.
What the hell had she been thinking?
For one minute, she wanted more than anything in the world to kiss this dark stranger—in the middle of a god-awful nor’easter, nonetheless .
Heck, not just kiss him. She didn’t want to stop until his naked, wet flesh wrapped around her and steam misted off the ground.
Now Jake was looking down at her with an indolent grin and stormy shadows of desire in his eyes.
“Give me your hand,” he commanded over the din of the rain.
Dammit, she was a grown woman. She could handle this man. She had survived the past year. She had outwitted a murderer. Why couldn’t she take Jake Grogan’s hand?
Because he was no less dangerous.
Determined to get inside, Megan wrapped her fingers around Jake’s wrist and felt herself hoisted so fast she stumbled and reached out for balance. Her palms fell between the gap in Jake’s jacket and landed flat against his chest. A band of muscles covered the pounding of his heart, and again it occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one suffering the pangs of temptation. Jake watched her with an intensity that made her tremble, but he didn’t touch her. He stood with his arms at his sides, waiting to see what she would do. Megan kept her hands on his chest until the contact became too hot to handle and she snapped them back.
“Get inside.” His husky whisper carried over the rain.
Were it not for the suction of the mud, Jake thought Megan would have executed Olympic speed to sprint to the porch. Awkward steps brought her to the deck where she watched with apprehension as he climbed the stairs behind her.
A rattle on the slanted roof alerted them that the precipitation had condensed into something more substantial. Ice bounced off the ground like a spilled gumball machine.
“Wonderful.” He scowled.
Used to the routine, Jake pulled off his mud-caked boots and set them next to the front door. He could hear the steady plop plop plop of drops leaking from his sleeves. Water dripped from his hair, and his pure state of filth and saturation was helping to abate some of the desire that had just ripped through him .
My God , where did that come from? He had probably terrified Megan. She didn’t know him. She might have thought he was going to rape her out there—and there would be no one to call for help.
“Megan, look—”
“I think I’m going to send you down to the cellar.”
“Hey,” he started, “I know I’ve been bad, but—”
“The cellar,” she sighed, “is where the washer and dryer are.” Midnight eyes coursed his body, lingering enough to stir what he was trying so hard to ignore. “There’s absolutely no hope for those clothes. They have to go right in the wash.”
Megan wrenched her eyes up from the mud-caked jeans and added, “You’ve been bad?”
When she threw his declaration back in his face, Jake was suddenly uncertain.
“Well—I mean, what happened out there—” He looked toward the door and saw through it, to the pool of mud and the image of her body splayed so intimately atop him. “I’m sorry.” He sobered. “I don’t normally act like
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