“Did they dust for prints?” he asked as he walked through the kitchen.
“Yes, but I haven’t heard anything.” She was behind him. He could smell the scent of woman and a flirty, spicy fragrance that tempted his senses.
“I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow.” He unlocked the back door and went to work. The quicker he was finished, the quicker he could get the hell out of here. Get away from her. Before he messed up. And when Rick Grayson messed up, he really messed up.
WELL, HER LUCK was about as dismal as normal, Hannah thought as she watched Rick from beneath her lashes. The chicken was perfect, the mashed potatoes creamy and delicate, the fresh green beans and biscuits the perfect complement.
He was still stiff as a board and talking in monosyllables. As though he hated being there. And the tension was so damned thick she could have cut it with a knife.
He’d replaced her dead bolts and her locks, drilled out deeper anchors for the bolts, installed additional window locks, and instructed her to keep her cell phone by the bed and her bedroom door locked at night.
She promised to do it. He had nodded stiffly and sat down to dinner.
It reminded her of the two dates they’d had the summer before. Stiff, stilted, and filled with tension.
Yep, that was her luck. She hadn’t had a decent date in years, and it had been even longer since she’d actually had a lover.
“I’m sorry I kept you so long.” She moved to her feet and began to whisk the remainder of the dinner from the table before returning for the dirty dishes.
He was still sitting there, nursing that cup of coffee between his fingers as though it were a lifeline of some sort.
“The chicken was delicious, Hannah. Thank you.” He watched her, his gaze shuttered as she returned to the dining room.
“You’re welcome.” Okay, so her voice was a little crisp, but it wasn’t nasty. She wasn’t being impolite, she was just eager to have this failure of an evening over, as well.
She picked up the side dishes and went back to the kitchen. Dumping them in the sink, she turned to return to the dining room when she suddenly ran into a broad, hard, wide chest.
Rick’s hard body. His hands settled on her hips as though to steady her, and she might have needed the help because suddenly her knees were weak, her head spinning.
Her head lifted, tilting back to stare up at him. He was a foot taller than she was, wider, stronger, so masculine he stole her breath and made her so wet she was certain to have to change pan ties once he left.
She’d been wet before they ever sat down to dinner. She should have excused herself during the meal.
And now, she could feel the slick wetness increasing, her sex flexing, clenching in need.
What was it about this one man? What made her body ache for him, her imagination dream of him? Why was she so fascinated with a man that didn’t want . . .
Her eyes widened as she felt the hard wedge of flesh against her stomach. His erection behind the denim of his jeans.
“Why look so surprised?” he growled, his voice deeper, rougher. “Surely you knew what the hell you do to me?”
Her mouth went dry. Shaking her head slowly, Hannah let her fingers curl tighter around his wrists, felt the tough flesh beneath her fingertips, and wondered how his fingers would feel against her.
“You never seemed interested.” She swallowed tightly.
“Not interested?” His hands tightened at her hips. “I think we just ruled that one out.”
Her lips parted as his head lowered slowly. His gaze locked with hers, and it seemed to Hannah that the world suddenly moved in slow motion as she waited for this kiss. Waited to feel his lips against hers, to touch him, to taste him.
It was happening too slowly, and it was happening too fast. Something seemed off balance, not quite what she had expected from him.
One hand moved from her hip to cup her face, tilt her head. She suddenly felt incredibly small and feminine, helpless against him, as her hands fluttered uncertainly before landing on his chest.
“Rick?” She whispered his name as his lips brushed against hers, light as a feather, heated, firm.
“Yeah, baby.” Suddenly she was floating, lifting against him, until she felt her rear meet the counter as he moved between her thighs and his lips settled hungrily over hers.
This was no introductory kiss. There was no initial exploration. It was an explosion through her senses. His lips settled over hers as his tongue licked, stroked the seam of her lips until they parted.