Grinning, she pulled her legs up and rested her arms on her knees as she relaxed into the cushy headboard that matched his own, suspecting Paul and Denise had spoiled her return, too. Must get a nice discount through the store. “That’s me.”
He glanced around the room, noting the lack of other furniture and personal possessions in the room. “I heard you were making a living at it. Are you still? I mean, Foothills doesn’t seem like a good spot to be for a professional artist.”
“No shit,” she muttered, glaring at the window.
And he’d stepped in it, as usual. Biting his lips together, he watched out the window, willing the gunmen to return. At least that was something he knew what to do about. Polite conversation? Not so much.
She sighed, “Sorry. I mean, I know I’m going to need to travel a lot and it’s a huge risk, moving home. Marketing and social networking and all the crap I hate about pimping out my passion. But I’d been gone for too long. You ever get the draw to return home? That nowhere else in the world will suffice?”
He snorted, wishing more than ever for that damn shooter to reappear. “Not really.”
Exhaling heavily, she rested her chin on her knees.
Goddammit. Half the damn reason he’d joined the military rather than following the path his parents and Blaire had planned for him, was so he wouldn’t have to deal with communicating like normal people expected. Clearing his throat, he tried to redeem himself, “I mean, my parents have moved like six times since I left the house, and I hate New York. So nothome, no, but I get the desire for familiar.”
Her satin pink lips drew up in a quiet smile. Watching the dark night, she said, “Asher is familiar.”
He nodded, a knot swelling in his throat. “Yep. Dragged my ass up here for good reason. I don’t exactly have much going for me these days.” Turning his head, he looked over at her.
Voice musically light, she said, “Sometimes you need to start over to find out where you want to be.” Her bottom lip pulled into her teeth, breath coming fast as her infinite blues locked on and searched his muddy green.
Like a fucking idiot, he leaned in.
A distant crack struck the air.
Ricocheting around in his skull, bringing him right back to too many firefights, Zane looped his arm around Freya and rolled her off the bed with him.
Knocking the wind out of him, his back hit the ground and he absorbed their combined weight. Without pause, he flipped their positions, so he covered her body with his. Ears tuned in to every noise, unblinking as he watched out the window for the slightest shadow, he stilled. Pulse beating slow and steady under his skin, he listened.
Nothing. Would have to be a pretty unlucky random shot to get them inside the house, with how far away that shot was. But better safe than sorry with all the unknowns. Like why the hell someone was shooting a gun in the middle of the night in nowhereville.
Beneath him, Freya’s chest rose and fell as she caught her breath. Alert, panic under control, she watched him rather than peering out the window.
No more gunshots. The night was dead quiet.
He rose to his elbows, looking down to see her expression easing from stunned to amused, her wicked blue eyes flashing with merriment. From somewhere in his brain, his chest, he blushed and grinned and shook his head at the absurdity. “I, uh. Yeah. Sorry. I’ve been shot at a few times.”
“Impressive reaction time.” As the moment quieted, her fishhook grin widened. “I was hoping we’d end up in this position eventually.”
Chuckling, he parked his tongue between his teeth as he considered what to make of her.
Sighing like she was settling in for the evening, arms resting over her abdomen, she asked, “All okay?”
He nodded, relenting to an ironic laugh under his breath. “I don’t think you imagined the gunfire.”
She trailed her fingers along his forearm, then tracing up along his triceps, stirring a tingling in her wake. “As you seem awfully calm, it must not have been very close?”
“Nope.”
“Should we call the police?”
“Probably.” He couldn’t make himself move. Her body calm and warm and half naked under his, her fingers teasing his skin under his sleeves, she drove him mad with a desire he hadn’t felt in way too long.
While he wracked his brain for a single reason to move off her, she wrapped one hand around his shoulder, and the other gripped the back of his neck and pulled him to her. Leaning up to meet him, she pressed a silken kiss on his upper lip, then another on the corner of his mouth.
Helpless, enchanted, he stilled. Her tongue grazed along the crease of his lips, then she gently nipped at his lower lip.
Groaning at her simple touch that drove him absolutely beyond the tipping point, he took her mouth with his. Exploring, savoring her spiced, feminine scent, heat surged through his limbs, the outside world fading into nothing as she kissed him back, no holds barred, like she was as drunk on the chemistry as he was. Again and again, he tasted, learning the contours of her supple lips, a zing of electricity zapping him back to life with each touch.
