Page 20 of The Survivor (Silhoutte Romantic Suspense)

B y the time five-thirty in the morning rolled around, Blake officially gave up on the notion of sleep.

He’d been lying awake for hours, debating whether to kick himself or simply bask in the afterglow of the best sex he’d ever had, and the constant battle in his brain made drifting off into slumber impossible.

He glanced down at Sam’s sleeping face and held her warm naked body close to him, knowing it was probably time to throw the FBI-conduct handbook out the window.

He’d been an agent since he was twenty-two years old and in the ten years he’d worked for the Bureau he’d never slept with a witness.

And then Samantha Dawson came into his life, and suddenly all he could think about was her silky hair and smoky-gray eyes and that centerfold body that felt too damn good pressed against his.

His chest ached at the memory of the vulnerability he’d seen in Sam’s eyes before she’d turned to show him her scar.

He hadn’t lied to her; the rose on her back didn’t disgust him, didn’t make him want to run for the hills. All it did was deepen his desire for her, and as he stared up at the ceiling now, he realized why he felt so troubled.

This wasn’t just about lust. Hell, it never had been. Yes, he was attracted to her. Yes, she brought him to a level of arousal he’d never known before. But it was more than that.

Her strength amazed him. Her determination impressed the hell out of him. And her vulnerability brought him to his knees.

He wanted to take care of her. Not because she was a witness or a victim or someone he was paid to protect. He wanted to take care of her the way a man took care of the woman he shared his bed with. Shared his life with.

He hadn’t felt this way since Kate. And yet it was different. With Kate, it had taken months for them to fall into bed with each other. Months for them to reach that level of sated comfort he now felt lying next to Sam.

“Blake?”

She stirred in his arms. With her cheeks flushed and hair tousled from sleep, she looked tired and satisfied and so beautiful he fought the urge to roll her over and make love to her again.

They’d already spent most of yesterday afternoon in bed, talking and making love for hours, getting out from under the covers only to grab a quick bite before dashing right back into bed.

It almost felt wrong, having time to play and unwind while he was in the middle of a case, but Knight had made it clear he didn’t want Samantha going out in public, which meant Blake had no choice but to stay by her side. Not that he minded.

“It’s early. Go back to sleep,” he said gruffly, tangling his fingers in her hair.

“Not until you tell me why you’re lying here with a frown on your face.” She yawned, then propped up on her elbow.

The sight of her bare breasts distracted him and he couldn’t help but reach out and drag his thumb over one rosy nipple.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, swatting his hand away. “Answer the question.”

He smiled in the darkness. “What question?”

“The frown, Blake.”

Sensing that she wouldn’t let it go, his face grew serious. “I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“You. This case.”

“Will you get in trouble for sleeping with me?”

He laughed at the little girl voice she used. “Not unless I call up my supervisor and give him a play-by-play of yesterday’s events.” His laugh caught in his throat. “I need this case to be over, Sam.”

A shadow crossed her face, and she sat up. She wrapped the blanket over her shoulders and moved into a cross-legged position, her bare knees poking out of the covers.

“It’s really taking a toll on you, chasing this guy.”

“It hasn’t been that bad,” he lied.

She gave a soft laugh. “Yeah? So explain the constant headaches. Or that knot between your shoulders that years of massage therapy probably couldn’t get out.”

“As I said, I want it to be over.”

“God, so do I.” She sighed. “I want him captured, Blake.”

Before he could reply, she tossed the blanket aside and got out of bed.

Across the room, a part in the curtains allowed for a sliver of dawn light to stream inside and he couldn’t help but admire her smooth, slender body.

She looked every inch the model—high, full breasts; hand-span waist; curvy bottom and never-ending legs.

His body tightened at the gorgeous sight.

She headed for the foot of the bed, grabbed the shirt he’d been wearing last night and slipped it over her head. His breath hitched. Damn, there was nothing sexier than a woman in a man’s shirt.

No, there was nothing sexier than this woman in his shirt.

“I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” she said, then disappeared into the hallway.

Blake stayed in bed and closed his eyes, wondering if he should try to force sleep.

If he slept, he wouldn’t have to think about how he’d just made love to the woman he was supposed to be protecting.

Wouldn’t need to combat the desire that pulsed through him at the knowledge that Sam was in his kitchen, naked under his shirt.

Unfortunately, he was wide-awake and unable to get the wicked image of Sam out of his mind.

He slid out of bed, put on his boxers and headed downstairs, where he found her leaning against the marble kitchen counter as she waited for the coffee machine to do its thing.

Her gaze immediately went to his bare chest and the small smile she shot him hit him in the gut and made his groin stiffen. He could see why so many men had bought that swimsuit edition. He would’ve bought ten years of issues just to see that smile.

He crossed the distance between them and pulled her close. Her arms tightened around him. Pressing her lips to his throat, she planted a soft kiss on his skin then buried her face in the crook of his neck. “God, that smells good,” she murmured.

“Thank you?”

“I was referring to the coffee.”

He offered a rogue grin. “ Sure you were.”

She ran a hand across the nape of his neck and the little hairs there tingled from the warmth of her touch. “You know, you should smile more often. You look nice when you smile.”

“I smile,” he said defensively.

“Yeah, sure.” She snorted. “Face it, most of the time you either look like you’ve got a migraine, like you’re training to climb Everest, or like you’re playing golf.”

He lifted a brow. “So you see me as a mountain-climbing golfer?” He paused. “Why golf, by the way?”

“Because golfers always look so ridiculously grim. They act like the world will crumble beneath their feet if they don’t tap a little white ball into a hole. Frankly, I don’t get it. And I’m serious, Blake, you need to lighten up sometimes. You’re way too intense.”

He shrugged. “Been that way all my life. I take after my father, I guess. He’s always been serious.

Now my mom, on the other hand—she doesn’t know the meaning of serious.

And don’t get me started on my sister. She’s the most cheerful person I’ve ever met.

It’s enough to induce a migraine or make me want to climb Everest.”

With a laugh, she wiggled out of the embrace.

“You make a good point. Perpetually cheerful people can be hard to swallow. But I still think you could stand to relax once in a while.” She drifted over to the counter and poured the steaming coffee into two tall mugs.

“So what should we do today? I haven’t had a snow day since grade school. ”

“What’s a snow day?” he returned with a sigh. “My parents never let us stay home the day after a blizzard.”

“What if the school was closed?”

“Then Mom would give us impromptu lessons in the living room.”

Sam giggled. “Poor thing.”

She handed him a mug. A few sips later, the caffeine kicked into gear, pulsed through his blood and made him forget that he’d spent the entire night awake, tossing and turning.

Sam crossed the room and peeked out the window next to the back door. “God, there’s so much snow! I can’t wait to go out there.”

“Sure you wouldn’t prefer spending the day in bed?”

She shot him an endearing smile and wagged her finger. “We did that yesterday. Today you get to experience the splendor of a snow day.”

He wanted to tell her he’d much rather experience the splendor of her, but the light dancing in her gray eyes made him bite his tongue.

He thought back to the day he’d first met her, the haunting pain and unmistakable torment he’d seen in those eyes, and he experienced a surge of pleasure knowing he’d been the one to erase it.

It probably wasn’t a good idea, going outside now that they knew the Rose Killer suspected she was alive, but the yard was fenced in, and he’d be with her, and…

Oh man, something about this woman made him feel helpless and vulnerable and weak in the knees. All it took was one smile from her, one sexy look, and he was ready to give her anything she wanted.

Even a day of playing in the snow.

* * *

“I cannot believe you’ve never made a snow angel before.”

Sam stared at Blake with utter disbelief. Was it actually possible that Blake, the man who admitted to family Monopoly nights, had failed to indulge in the most momentous winter activity ever? Hell, even the cranky older brother she’d grown up with had let a few snow angels loose now and then.

“You act like I just told you I’ve never tied my shoelaces or drunk a glass of milk,” he grumbled. “It’s just a snow angel.”

“ Just a snow angel?”

Blake offered a shrug.

“And you grew up in Chicago?”

“’ Fraid so.”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous.” She planted her gloved hands on her hips. “Get on your back.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

If he didn’t look so damn cute with his cheeks flushed from the cold and with that sexy wool hat covering his dark hair, she would’ve hurled a snowball at him.

“Take your mind out of the sexual gutter, Corwin.” She pointed to the snow. “On your back.”

Reluctant acceptance filled his gaze. Sighing, he lowered his long, lean body onto the snow, propped his hands behind his head and eyed her expectantly.