Page 71

Instead, betrayal found him again, and another dead soul haunted his dreams.
He’d hurt her by not telling her sooner he was alive.
When the coffee finished brewing, he poured her a cup and added cream, just as she liked—enough to create a pale tinge to the dark brew, but not enough to make it milky. The mug warmed his palm as he brought it to where she stood in the living room. Her posture was so rigid he thought it might shatter at the sound of his voice. He held the drink over her shoulder as a peace offering because he had no idea what to say.
For a moment, it seemed as if she would ignore his gesture. Then she turned, accepted the mug, and glanced at its contents. “You didn’t add sugar, did you?”
“No sugar.” He let his gaze wander over the olive-colored dress she wore. The soft fabric draped her curves and tied at the waist like she was a gift to be unwrapped. Despite his best intentions, he reached out a finger and brushed the delicate ridge of her collarbone, half-expecting her to slap his hand away.
But she didn’t. Her breasts lifted on a sharp inhale, her cheeks turning a rosy pink, and he couldn’t help the visceral surge of satisfaction. She might be angry with him, but she still wanted him.
“Nathan told me you bought the painting.” Her eyes darkened with shadows, another black mark on his soul.
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The hurt in her voice twisted his insides.
He started to conjure up a suitable answer, but after everything he’d put her through, she deserved the truth, even if it left him exposed. “I bought it because I thought if I studied it long enough, I’d see myself the way you see me.”
Her eyes grew moist at his confession. A tear escaped that he wiped away with the pad of his finger. “Please don’t cry,mo leannan.” He wasn’t worth it.
“I thought you were dead,” her anguished whisper was a dagger to his chest. She traced the bandage near his eye with a delicate touch before her lashes swept down, hiding from him.
He captured her hand, and his lips stroked her soft palm in a wordless apology. She was real. Flesh and blood. And for some mad reason, she cared about him. His fingers itched with the need to touch, to claim what he didn’t deserve. More than ever, he needed her light to banish his darkness.
There was nothing sweet or gentle about the way he took her mouth. She tasted of coffee and spices, her mouth wet silk, and she kissed him back.
The mug she held needed to go. He broke the kiss long enough to place it on the fireplace mantle. Her hands slid up his chest to tangle in the hair at his nape. She raised herself onto her toes and yanked his head down to reclaim his lips.
Her assertiveness smashed any thoughts he’d held of restraint. He lifted her and pinned her to the wall next to the sliding door, her curves cushioning his hard angles. A wave of lust shot straight to his cock, hardening it to the point of pain. He reacted with an instinctive thrust. The sound she made against his lips threatened to shred the last of his sanity.
What was it about this tiny slip of a female that vanquished the ugliness in his head to wrap around the heart he thought he no longer possessed? She made him want more from life.
“Lachlan.” Her voice, breathless and needy, egged him on.
He slid his hand beneath her neckline to cup her breast and teased her nipple to a stiff peak. His mouth followed, nipping delicate skin, then laving the redness with his tongue. Her nails dug into his scalp, erotic pricks of pleasure/pain, her soft cries of pleasure his reward.
She was burning him alive, and he needed to be inside her. He set her on her feet and tore at the ties keeping her dress in place. The material fell open to expose creamy skin mottled with a rosy flush that spilled over her breasts and advanced to her cheeks.
Her wanton expression burned a hole in his brain. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain of new and old wounds, and brushed his mouth over the satin-covered juncture between her legs, breathing in her arousal. She was already wet for him, and he wanted a taste.
Lust tightened his muscles and fisted his cock. His need to put his mouth on her would have to wait. He eyed the hardwood floor, unsure if he could make it to the bedroom before he was so deep inside her that he wouldn’t know where he ended and she began.
A loud rap on the kitchen wall brought him to his feet instantly. He ignored his throbbing leg, shielding Sophia with his body.
“Sorry to interrupt.” There was no mistaking the amusement twinkling in Nathan’s eyes.
Lachlan swallowed his irritation and ordered his body to stand down. “Give us a minute.” Nathan gave a quick nod and disappeared back to his war room.
Behind him, Sophia’s withdrawal was palpable. Lachlan faced her. He scrubbed his face with a sigh and winced at the sting of the cuts he’d forgotten about. If Nathan hadn’t interrupted, he’d have taken her on the floor like an inconsiderate prick. He’d lost control, and he couldn’t afford to lose it again until he dealt with his enemies.
She had re-tied her dress, her gaze directed somewhere over his left shoulder. “What are you planning to do next?”
He took in her flushed cheeks and subdued tone. Regret stabbed him. She was embarrassed, and it was his fault. “Find out who set me up. Call Jared and tell him you’re taking time off. You’ll stay here, where I can keep you safe.”
She crossed her arms, the discomfort from a moment ago replaced by temper. “What excuse would I give Jared? Besides, like I already told you, I can access information at LAI that could prove your innocence.” Dammit, if her big eyes didn’t fill with tears again, pleading. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
Her tears unmanned him. “Leannan, please. It’s better if you disappear for a while. We don’t know who the enemy is yet.” Someone at LAI helped frame him. Here at least, he and Nathan could protect Sophia.