Page 34

“Thank you, Marianne, for your hospitality. We’re very grateful.” Then he followed her through the old-fashioned house.

The bathroom had an old, iron, claw-foot tub with the enamel worn away in places from a constantly dripping tap. She put in the plug and ran the water so the bath was tepid rather than frigid.

“Come on, soldier, strip.”

Kurt placed the pack on the floor and reached back to pull the handgun out of his waistband. Placing it under a towel on a stack beside the bath, within easy reach. Then he began to peel his shirt over his head, and she forced herself not to ogle those heavily muscled pecs and solid abs.

The window was cracked open an inch despite the colder weather, and she shivered.

A spider clung to one wall, and she forced herself not to think about the number of arachnids likely in the house.

She’d had to deal with them in her uncle’s homes, not to mention a scorpion on her way to the bathroom one night in Vic Falls.

The locals didn’t seem to care, but she hated anything with eight legs.

He wobbled as he began to undo his trousers.

She grabbed his elbow. “Sit on the edge of the tub and hold onto my shoulders. I’ll help.”

He did as she suggested. His expression bemused as he watched her. “Slightly different from last night, huh?”

She smiled up at him as she removed his boots and socks. “I’ll try to control my baser urges until you’re feeling better.”

“There go my fantasies.”

“I don’t think you’d survive.”

“Be a hell of a way to go though, wouldn’t it?”

She laughed and then reached around and tested the water. Turned off the tap. Pulled a face. “It’s cold.”

“Thank God.”

“Rather you than me.”

He kicked off his trousers and underwear, then slid slowly into the water, his body visibly jerking in reaction to the icy temperature .

“Fantastic.” He kept his injured arm on the edge of the bath. “I have to admit I feel like shit.”

“Funny, because you look really good.”

He squinted over his arm. “Pervert.”

“Guilty.” She found a washcloth and dipped it into the cold water. Wrung it out and placed it on his brow as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

He gave a low growl that was almost a purr. “That feels good.”

“Better than sex?”

His eyelids cracked open. “What do you think?”

A blush heated her own cheeks. “I would be shocked if it could feel that good, but it’s been a while since anyone placed a cold washcloth on my forehead, so maybe I’m missing something.”

He laughed then groaned as if his head hurt. Closed his eyes. “You’re funny. I like that. A lot.”

His words filled her with some unidentifiable emotion.

She liked it too. Making him laugh. The man was far too serious, but he dealt with terrorists and life-and-death situations on a not infrequent basis.

She dealt with small research projects, community literacy support, overdue fines, making sure the books were in the right order, and the occasional plumbing issue.

She could afford a little levity.

Not that her job wasn’t important. Librarians were the wardens of knowledge and truth.

The checkers of facts. The gatekeepers to a million tiny universes.

Libraries were still important in the modern era of ereaders and the internet.

They could be sanctuaries and safe places for people who needed that.

Tardises for mind expansion and entertainment for those who couldn’t afford to buy books or DVDs.

She dipped the now warm cloth back in the cold water, repeated the process until his body temp cooled, and his color faded back to normal. She tried not to check out his impressive body, but it was difficult under the circumstances. Everything was right there .

He’d closed his eyes, absorbing the coolness of the water.

The well-defined muscles spoke to a life of physicality and action—not someone who sat behind a desk all day selling insurance.

Marianne would know that in an instant if she got a look at him naked.

His knees were bent to fit in the bath. Thick, strong thighs relaxed and spread.

Not a man to be bashful, and Rowena was not a prude. She was curious.

The tiny crow’s feet edging the corners of his eyes were definitely not unattractive.

Tiredness from their long day and his raging infection were evident in the deep creases bracketing his mouth.

His lips were wide and firm, perfectly symmetrical.

That elusive dimple making a brief appearance.

On his chest, two moles sat just above his right nipple, forming the perfect triangle, and made her fingers itch to touch.

A sprinkling of dark hair formed a center line that traveled south from his navel providing more tempting territory.

There was a scar on his thigh, a small white puckered circle, that looked suspiciously like a bullet hole. Another scar ran down his shin.

Despite the scars, he was a very well put together man.

Very well put together indeed.

Her mouth went dry.

She searched for a distraction. God knew they had plenty to choose from. “What do you think of Marianne?”

“Don’t trust her,” he grumbled. “Be careful what you say to her.”

“Why don’t you trust her?”

He opened one eye. “Probably because she got the drop on me.”

“Beat you at your own game, you mean.”

He laughed quietly. “I guess. I just don’t see why a woman on her own would invite two strangers into her home when we could be cold-blooded killers out to rob and murder her. It’s foolish, and she doesn’t strike me as a fool.”

“She seemed nice.”

“Exactly. ”

“You’re a cynic.”

“I thought you’d figured that out the night we met.”

“When you accused me of being a sex worker, you mean?”

He winced.

“And you kept asking who I worked for as if you thought I was some kind of spy.”

He grimaced. “I was right about you following one of us. I figured you could be a honeytrap—one that tempted me to dive headlong into it regardless and worry about the consequences later.”

She held his deep blue gaze, glad she wasn’t the only one who had been attracted. “I was shocked you thought I could be anything other than what I am. I live a boring little life in a quiet little town.”

“You’re a smart, beautiful woman.”

The throwaway compliment took her by surprise.

He ran a thumb across her bottom lip. “I bet you wish you were back home now surrounded by your books.”

She looked away to hide the emotions that threatened.

She loved her books, but they couldn’t hold her hand or hug her when she was lonely.

They couldn’t give her everything she wanted.

“I wish we weren’t in danger. I wish people hadn’t died.

But there are several things I wouldn’t swap for anything, except maybe you not getting shot. ”

Their gazes locked, and she could tell he thought she was talking about the sex, but it was more than that. More than she wanted to admit.

“Why me?” he asked. “Why last night?”

She folded the damp washcloth and put it on the edge of the bath.

“Because I was once again reminded life is short, and I didn’t want to die without having experienced sex.

I hadn’t been waiting for someone special per se —just someone I liked and trusted enough to be intimate with.

” She watched him from under her lashes.

“And someone who looked like he knew what he was doing in the bedroom and who I found incredibly attractive. ”

“No wonder it took you so long. I was lucky to be at the right place at the right time.”

You were the right place and the right time.

She didn’t say it out loud. It was too heavy for a casual relationship, and she owed him too much to put pressure on him like that.

He caught her hand. Dragged her toward him. “Kiss me.”

She laughed. “You’re ill.”

“I’m fine.”

“I can’t take advantage of you!”

“I saw you checking me out… I know you’re curious.”

She almost pulled away, mortified, but he held tight to her hand.

“Look at what you do to me. Even now.”

He slowly wrapped her fingers around him, and she was shocked to find him rock hard. Her lips opened in surprise even as he cupped the back of her head to pull her in for a kiss.

She squeezed her fingers tighter, and he braced his feet against the end of the bath.

“I want you.” His words came between kisses.

“I want you too.” She kissed him deeper and touched him.

As turned on and willing as she might be, having full-on sex right now wouldn’t be right.

But she could give him something. She copied how he showed her to touch him, stroked the long, hot length of him, up and down, tip to root, faster, keeping the rhythm.

Kissing his mouth, his jaw, feeling tension build there as he strained to hold back.

“Row. Wait. Wait. I’m gonna?—”

“I want you to.” She gripped him more firmly and kept stroking him, faster now, his own fingers joining hers, changing the tempo, the pressure.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

His jaw clenched. Eyes hot on hers. He opened his mouth with a silent cry, head thrown back as his release ripped through him. She watched as he pulsed hotly over his stomach and their joined hands.

He collapsed down into the water, panting, eyes wide with shock, a little pale now. “Holy fuck, you’re going to kill me.” He swallowed thickly. “I wanted to…”

“Next time.” She hoped there would be a next time. “When I can be sure I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“I was trying to take advantage of you. I did take advantage of you.” He corrected as he washed himself off.

“No, you didn’t. I enjoyed it. Another first.” She smiled as he stared at her, not letting her escape his scrutiny.

He touched her cheek. “You can take advantage of me anytime. Any time at all. And anything you have an interest in exploring…let me know. As long as I don’t have to wear high heels and pantyhose, I’m game.”

She met those eyes, the color of the deep ocean, and a quiver of pleasure slipped through her. She’d like that too. A lot.

Suddenly, she noticed the hairs on his arms had formed goose bumps and he’d begun to shiver.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She grabbed a large towel and held it out for him. “And you can make me scream with pleasure any time at all—except when you’re suffering from a nasty fever.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s going to be my absolute pleasure.”

She turned away and hid a secret smile. Despite everything that had happened over the past two days, she felt sexy and powerful. She liked it. Loved it, actually. Hated the thought that they’d be going their separate ways soon.

Still, the sooner they got out of this mess the sooner she could begin her campaign to see him again. Perhaps he’d let her visit him in the States. Assuming they got out of this mess alive.