Page 20

After stripping off her clothes, Haven transferred herself to the sturdy, plastic seat in the extra-large, handicapped shower with the spray already on full blast. Usually, she would let the water warm up, but didn’t wait this time.

A little cold water would temper her burning cheeks and raging hormones.

All week, she’d kept herself in check and made sure she didn’t lead Frisco on by responding to his flirting.

But tonight, her control had flown out the window when he’d cupped her chin, and those wicked eyes had bored into her.

Her jaw and cheek still tingled from where he’d rubbed his thumb back and forth, and that feeling had shot straight to her core.

It had taken all her strength to propel her chair out of the room.

If she wasn’t careful, the man would work his way under her skin more than he’d already done.

Once her hair was soaked, she grabbed a bottle of her favorite shampoo, which smelled like roses, from the shower’s low shelf.

Actually, it’d been her sister’s favorite, and Haven liked to use it to bring back happy memories that weren’t marred by terrorists determined to kill anyone who didn’t pray to the same deity they did.

But this time as she worked the scented lather into her strands of hair, her mind conjured up the man who was currently ordering their dinner.

If this were another time and place, she’d have already invited Frisco into her bed, of that she was certain.

But she saw the way he looked at her sometimes when he didn’t think she was paying attention, and that usually stopped her in her tracks.

He wanted her in his bed—he’d made no attempt to hide that fact—but she got the feeling he wanted more than that .

.. more than what she could give him. Haven had no idea how to be herself around a man like him.

For thirteen years, up to the point she was shot, she’d played a role, even if she wasn’t on a mission.

She always had to be “on,” like an actor staying in character during an entire filming schedule.

The only place she could relax and be herself was alone, behind closed doors.

But Lucas “Frisco” Ingram was slowly working his way past the defensive walls she’d built around her heart, and it scared her shitless.

She was so afraid that if he got to know the real Haven, the one she kept hidden from the rest of the world, he’d be disappointed and walk away.

She couldn’t handle any more loss in her life—there had been far too much already.

But the way he made her feel, just by roaming his gaze over her from head to toe like he wanted to devour her, was weakening her defenses.

Each day, she became more attracted to him and often found herself daydreaming about what it would be like for him to kiss her, strip her naked, and bring her to orgasm after orgasm.

Her long-dormant sexual desires were rising to the surface again, and when Frisco was in the room they were ready to spill over, taking her doubts with them.

Once more, she felt a stirring between her legs. “Damn it,” she muttered to herself as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. “Thinking about him all day long is not helping.”

After several moments of hesitation, Haven rolled her eyes and reached for the bottle of body oil she kept on the shower’s shelf. “Might as well figure out if everything’s working without an audience. ”

Pouring some of the oil onto her fingers, she spread her legs a little wider.

Leaning on the chair-back, she closed her eyes and conjured up Frisco.

Every day in therapy she was treated to a delicious sight when he took his shirt off so the therapists could get at his shoulders and neck.

He was sculpted perfection under his cotton T-shirts, and she wondered what the loose pants and shorts he wore hid, certain she wouldn’t be disappointed.

Trailing her hand down her abdomen, she paused for a moment, before allowing her fingers to brush across her clit.

She gasped at the contact, even though she’d been expecting it.

She did it again as, in her mind, Frisco went down on his knees in front of her.

He kissed the inside of her thighs as he worked his way up to her pussy.

While she’d recently begun trimming herself down there, she really wanted to go get waxed again.

Up until the day she was shot, she’d always kept herself bare, sans a small patch above her clit.

As Frisco did wicked things to her in her daydream, her fingers began to work their magic.

Dipping them inside her tight pussy, she drove herself higher.

Haven forced herself to push everything else from her mind except what her fantasy lover was doing to her.

Lifting her other hand to her breasts, she rolled the taut peaks between her fingers, pulling on them.

Her breathing increased as she found her clit again and rubbed furiously.

Frisco was spreading her wider and eating her like she was the sweetest fruit on Earth.

That’s it, baby. Give me more. Give me all of it .

Harder. Faster. Demanding everything she had. Refusing to take a small sample. He wanted everything she had to offer.

Cum for me, Haven. Cum for me, now!

Haven shattered around her fingers. Her body shook with abandon as her other hand shot out to grab the shower’s safety bar.

She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her.

It’d been so long since she’d climaxed, she thought she’d pass out from the intensity.

Her fingers drew out the orgasm as long as possible, before she began to float back to reality.

Behind her closed eyelids, she saw Frisco looking at her from between her legs.

His chin was covered with the evidence of her release as he grinned with satisfaction. “That’s my girl. Ready for round two?”

With Haven curled up to his right, her head resting on the pillow in his lap, and Roxie, to his left, snuggled against him, Frisco couldn’t get up.

He was thanking his lucky stars the remote was in reach and he didn’t need to use the bathroom; he didn’t want to disturb either of them.

His hands had stroked both of them—Haven’s chestnut hair, which was still slightly damp, and Roxie’s reddish-blonde fur—long after they’d started to snore softly in tandem.

Picking up the remote from the other side of the dog, he lowered the volume of the TV as the last of the credits for Skyfall ended and Spectre began.

He’d been surprised at Haven’s choice of the James Bond films. Then again, she used to do a lot of things that could’ve been used for a series franchise about a female spy .

.. if the public ever found out about it, which probably wouldn’t happen.

Frisco adjusted his hips the best he could without waking the two sleepers.

His dick had been hard for the past half hour—more so than earlier when he’d been thinking about Haven naked in the shower.

With her hand tucked under his thigh, her fingers were curved around his leg, stopping just below his sweatpants-covered balls.

He knew it was unintentional on her part—she’d been out like a light when it’d happened—but still it was driving him crazy.

Every once in a while, her fingers twitched or tightened briefly, and he wished they were wrapped around his aching cock instead.

If it wasn’t for the pillow, he’d be hitting her in the ear with it, and that wasn’t the part of her body the damn thing wanted to be in.

He could really get used to this. Not only was he attracted to Haven on a sexual level, he liked being with her.

There were a lot of guys he knew who considered their wives or girlfriends to be their best friends, but he never really got it before now.

In only a week, he felt more comfortable with her than he’d ever been with another woman in his life.

He’d told her all about his family the other night over a cup of coffee and dessert after Avery had gone back to the guest house following dinner.

She’d seemed honestly interested in the funny stories that had become part of his family’s history over the years.

Then she’d listened with sympathy as he’d explained how he’d lost several good friends on the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan.

While he’d never forget any of them, the one incident that often woke him up in a cold sweat was the one he should have been killed in, too.