Donna Sterling - Sex And The Sleepwalker

But with nothing more than a courteous nod, he turned and strode to the stairway.

Again he’d surprised her. And not in a good way. She felt curiously deflated. Robbed, even. He apparently thought he could slink off to his room without a face-to-face confrontation with her.

She allowed him that delusion as she followed him silently up the stairs to the second floor. All the way to his door, actually. It wasn’t until he pushed his key into the lock that Brynn halted beside him.

He glanced at her in surprise.

She scowled. “You might not remember much about me, Cal,” she said in a furious undertone, deliberately getting his name wrong, “but I remember plenty about you. Trish is my friend. She’s been through a tough time lately, and she doesn’t need a wolf like you ready to pounce on her. Stay away from her.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up, and he leaned a broad shoulder against the doorjamb. “So, you’re worried about your friend, are you?” His gaze played over her face with gathering intensity. “Then maybe you’d better keep me occupied.”

A dark thrill shot into her stomach. A spear of sensual heat, the kind she hadn’t felt for years. Nine years. The realization alarmed her. “Don’t play your mind games here. With anyone. Or I promise you, I will be your worst nightmare.”

With that passionate threat, she whipped around, stalked to her room and shut the door behind her, her knees deplorably weak, her blood humming in her ears. She had no idea how she would ever carry out that threat, but she meant it. Something about Cade Hunter never failed to incite her to passion, one way or another.

Maybe you’d better keep me occupied. Why should that hoarsely uttered suggestion have given her such a thrill? He had to know she wanted nothing to do with him. He was only taunting her. Laughing at her, no doubt.

How she wished that just once she could turn the tables on him. Slay him with a single gaze. Wipe that cockiness off his face. Bring him to his knees.

But that highly satisfying image soon elicited memories. Vivid, hot, sensually arousing memories. Not appropriate for this situation. The last thing she wanted was any kind of sexual relationship with him.

Of course she didn’t. He infuriated her, that was all.

She only hoped she could calm down enough to sleep.

HE WAS HAVING TROUBLE sleeping. He wasn’t sure why.

It wasn’t because of his work. He had all the precautions in place, and things were proceeding as planned. It wasn’t because of jet lag, either. He’d been in Georgia for two days, long enough for him to adjust from Colorado time. There was no good reason for him to lie here staring at the ceiling.

Hell, Hunter, this undercover work has got you lying to yourself. He knew damn well why he couldn’t sleep: because of Brynn. He’d been so determined to take their reunion in stride, to treat her with the same casual lightness he treated everyone else. Yet here he was, reliving every moment he’d spent in her presence.

He’d been a little stunned when he’d seen her today.

Nine years ago, she’d been a soft-spoken, dark-haired beauty with natural warmth and kindness shining from her hazel eyes and heart-shaped face. He’d first seen her at a UGA football game, and he hadn’t been able to look away. She’d been there with his buddy John from crim law class—a good friend, although they hadn’t known each other long. Cade had felt a sinking in his chest, a heaviness in his gut, because he’d known, after one long look at Brynn, that he would do everything in his power to take her away from John. There was just something about her that struck him as so damn beautiful. So damn unique. He traded seats with the guy behind them, and was more than a little relieved when John introduced Brynn as his sister. Then he heard her voice. Talked with her. Laughed with her. And the certainty grew. She had to be his.

That had been nine years ago, when he was twenty-one. He’d done a lot of hard, fast living since then, had more than his share of beautiful women. When he’d checked into the inn today, he’d expected to see her with new eyes. Jaded eyes, as his friends might say. He’d also expected her to have changed in some fairly major ways.

But then he’d looked up from his arm-wrestling match and felt a sudden clutch in his gut. A sinking in his chest. A heaviness in his stomach. Because she was so damn beautiful. That same unique, angelic beauty still radiated from her. Still took his breath away.

And that had surprised the hell out of him. In his experience, life had a way of hardening people. Changing them from the inside out. After all he’d seen and heard in the course of his work, he doubted that the kid he’d once been even existed in his body anymore.

But Brynn hadn’t seemed to have changed in any major way. Her long dark hair was styled differently—in some fancy braid—and her slender figure had filled out into rounder curves. She now wore an air of authority with surprising ease. But the sweetness still glowed from her face and eyes, even when she was trying her damnedest to drive him away.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to resist testing her, prodding her, to see how she’d react. “Maybe you’d better keep me occupied,” he’d told her.

And that, he realized, was the real reason he couldn’t sleep. He was angry with himself. He’d started out so well, pretending not even to remember her name. His time here would pass much easier if he could avoid any meaningful personal contact with her. He’d almost made it to his room with his mask firmly in place. But then he’d taken the bait and allowed her to lure him out of his “impersonal” mode.

He’d gazed into her eyes, up close and personal, and breathed in her scent. And lost a little bit of his mind.

The old heated awareness had flooded her face, and so had that look of alarm. Which meant nothing had changed. She was still running from him. He still couldn’t have her.

That was another reason he couldn’t sleep. He was angry with her—because she still jumped to the wrong conclusions about him. Assumed the very worst about his character. “Trish doesn’t need a wolf like you ready to pounce on her,” she’d said.

Wasn’t that the story of his life, though? Hadn’t all the people he’d loved believed the very worst about his actions, his motives? His mother had given up custody of him when he was seven because he’d been “a handful”—and he hadn’t even known he’d been misbehaving. To this day, his father and stepmother considered him bad news, and their son and daughter naturally excluded him from family gatherings.

Cade should have learned by now. When it came to the important people in his life, he didn’t have whatever it took to be trusted, or even given the benefit of the doubt. He’d thought he’d learned to live with that.

In a way, he was glad his annoyance with Brynn had rescued him this evening. Otherwise, he might have started wanting her again. And that would be pure hell. He’d spent weeks, months, maybe years, reliving the long, hot hours they’d spent kissing, necking, petting. She hadn’t let him make love to her. Not all the way. But he’d known how to make her hot, and how to make her come. And he’d relished the power, the heat…and had wanted, needed, so much more.

It had become a constant craving. The scent of her, the feel, the taste—all made him believe that she had been made for him. He’d wanted to drive himself deep into her body. To fill her entirely. To possess her completely.

It hadn’t happened.

Make love to me, Brynn, or we’re through. They’d been words of desperation. Stupid, foolish, asinine. His ultimatum had only alienated her. He’d then compounded the mistake by trying to make her jealous.

But he wouldn’t think about any of that now. Those desperate, churning emotions were long dead and buried, and he was damn glad of it. He never wanted to want her again.

Punching the old-fashioned down pillow into shape, he glanced at the bedside clock: 2:00 a.m. He laid his head back down and shut his eyes, determined to sleep. He had a serious job to do here, and needed his rest.

No sooner had he begun to drift off, though, than he heard a faint jingling, like the rattle of keys. And a click. Then another noise. Half-asleep as he was, he vaguely recognized it as the squeak of a door opening. But, of course, he must be dreaming.

Or maybe not. His eyes flew open just in time to see a figure gliding toward him in the dark. His instincts kicked in, and he reached for the gun beside the bed, his mind instantly alert, his body poised for attack.

But then his eyes adjusted to the dark, and the shadowy figure materialized into a woman. A woman with long, free-flowing dark hair, wearing a soft, sheer nightgown.

Brynn.

HE WONDERED IF HE WAS dreaming. He had to be. No way in hell was Brynn Sutherland creeping into his bedroom in the middle of the night. But there she stood, right beside his bed, her beautiful, wide-eyed face faintly visible in the moonlight seeping between the drawn curtains.

“You want me to keep you occupied, Cade?” The fierce whisper sprang at him, like a cat, from the darkness.

Before he could gather his wits enough to reply, she sank a knee into the mattress, levered herself up and knelt beside him on the bed, her long hair billowing in sleep-mussed tangles around her. Her eyes, oddly shining, seemed to look straight through him. “Don’t think for a minute that I can’t ‘keep you occupied.’”

He sat up in bed, stunned beyond words.

“Oh, you don’t think I’m up to it?” she cried. “You think I’m a prude, a tease? You think I’m a dud in bed?”

“No! God, no.”

“I’m anything but a dud, or…or frigid.”

“Frigid? I never said—”

“Let’s give it a go, Romeo.” And with a suddenness that startled him, she yanked her gown over her head, struggled briefly to free her arms, then flung the garment aside. The effort threw her off balance. She swayed.

He grabbed her, pulled her to him. And his breath left him in a whoosh of sudden sensation. Her bare, jutting breasts, firm and full and impossibly soft, pressed against his chest, and a lavish abundance of cool, fragrant hair spilled over him. And her scent…ahh, her scent. He’d almost forgotten.

“Brynn,” he breathed, holding her tightly to him. She felt incredibly good. Incredibly right.

He fell back against the pillows with her, feeling as if he’d fallen into a fantasy. A purr hummed in her throat—a long, low moan of approval—and her breath steamed against his shoulder. His temperature spiked. His body hardened in arousal.

Sweeping his hand down her back, he relished the softness and warmth of her skin. It had been so long since he’d touched her. She wore panties, he discovered. But only panties. And she was here, in his arms, in his bed. Brynn.

She shifted against him, their bodies connecting fully from breast to hip, and she murmured something he didn’t quite catch. He rolled onto his side and pressed her down onto the bed, twining his leg with hers. He wanted to kiss her. Connect with her. Delve into her sweetness and heat. See if the magic could possibly be as potent as he remembered.

Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. He swept his mouth across them, wanting her. Wanting her.

“Mmm,” she moaned. And smiled. And turned her head.

Turned her head? The surprise of that made him draw back. Never had she failed to respond to his kiss. It was her one true weakness. His doorway to heaven. If his lips touched hers, he’d always been assured of long, lush kisses, each one hotter and wilder than the last. He believed that was the reason she’d never let him too near, after they’d broken up. Because she couldn’t resist his kisses. Yet she’d turned her head just now. Something was wrong. Very wrong.