Читать книгу Propositioned? - Kristin Gabriel, Linda Randall Wisdom - Страница 10

MICHAEL JAMMED the key into the lock, the incessant itching almost driving him to the point of madness. He slammed the door open, then tore off the top half of the costume before he even turned on the light. Buttons popped and hit the wall, but he didn’t care. He flung the furry shirt halfway across his bedroom.

Frustration roiled inside of him. He’d looked everywhere for her—combed every inch of the ballroom, then broadened his search to include the entire first floor. He’d even interrogated the doorman. But it was no use.

She was gone.

It was these stupid costumes. Never again. He didn’t care if it was tradition for the host of the Wolff Ball to dress as a wolf. If Seamus didn’t want the role next New Year’s Eve, they could damn well forego the costumes and dress in tuxedos like normal people. He’d always thought the masquerade part of the ball was ridiculous anyway.

He never should have let her go. Now he had no way of identifying his Little Red Riding Hood. His only option was to go over the guest list tomorrow and try to establish her identity by process of elimination.

But that wouldn’t change the fact that she’d stood him up for their midnight rendezvous. Michael wasn’t used to chasing women. They usually came to him.

Until tonight.

Maybe she wasn’t even on the guest list. Had she come with someone? Another man? That possibility hadn’t occurred to him until now. It didn’t quite fit, though, since no man had objected when Michael had kissed her on the dance floor. If he’d seen his woman mauled by a wolf, he sure as hell would have made his presence known.

He reached out to turn on the light, then realized he could already see. The lamp was on. Odd, since he never used it. One of the maids must have left it on.

Michael sat down on the chaise lounge and stripped off his boots, socks and furry pants, tossing them all into a heap on the floor. Relief at last. Tomorrow the entire costume would go straight into the trash.

He stood up and walked over to the dresser, reaching for the centuries-old bronze spear hanging on the wall above it. Blair had purchased the spear in her latest redecorating binge. She was into Egyptian decor this month and his bedroom had suffered the consequences.

In his opinion, she’d gone overboard with the depraved sheik look. Another not-so-subtle message that she didn’t approve of him. Or perhaps an attempt to finally drive him out of the house. Blair had mentioned more than once that a twenty-nine-year-old man should not be living with his grandfather.

Neither should a thirty-four-year-old woman, but he mostly kept that opinion to himself. He also ignored Blair’s hints that he move into the city. Someone had to stay and watch over his grandfather.

Seamus Wolff had raised Michael since he was almost thirteen years old, helping him to care about life again after his father’s private jet crashed during an impulsive weekend ski trip to Vail. Seamus was the only family Michael had left in the world—the only family that counted, anyway. And he damn well intended to do whatever it took to protect the old man.

Michael raked the end of the bronze spear across his back, moaning aloud with pleasure as he satisfied the itch that had plagued him all evening. The spear had brought close to two thousand dollars at a Sotheby’s auction—one hell of an expensive back scratcher.

Music floated up from the ballroom two floors below and he knew he should return to the party until the last guest walked out the door. But he just couldn’t stand the thought of putting that suffocating wolf costume back on. Or making small talk. Or parrying the flirtations of the inebriated women downstairs.

There was only one woman he wanted.

Smoothing one hand over his bare chest, he wished like hell he’d never stopped kissing her. But Michael didn’t believe in regrets. Time to forget about her and move on. He’d done it before.

He laid the spear on top of his dresser, then padded over to the window to open the drapes. Moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the room. He turned to switch off the lamp and, for the first time, he caught a vanilla scent in the air that reminded him of Little Red Riding Hood. Her perfume must have clung to his costume.

Picking up the furry shirt, he held it to his nose and inhaled deeply. But all it did was make him sneeze. “Give it up, Wolff,” he muttered, dropping the shirt on the floor once more.

He padded barefoot to the ridiculous harem tent bed, already dreading the long day that lay ahead tomorrow. His grandfather would be coming home from the hospital, and that would make him vulnerable to another “accident.” Michael would have to be more vigilant than ever.

As he pulled back the heavy gold canopy drape, the alluring vanilla scent assailed him again, only much stronger now. He blinked when he saw the reason for it sitting on his bed.

Red had ventured into his lair after all.

THIS WAS NOT GOOD.

Sarah should have realized her mission to return the diamond necklace was doomed when that stupid flashlight didn’t work.

No, even before that, when she’d found the back stairway under construction. She should have turned around at that moment and walked right out the door. Now she had to find some way to extricate herself from this sensitive situation before Michael got the wrong idea.

Judging by his expression, it was already too late. “My, what big eyes you have,” he said, standing beside the bed in nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts. The sight of his powerful body sent her already frazzled nerves into complete disarray.

Sarah could hardly think straight, much less speak. At last she recovered enough to form a sentence. “I think that’s my line.”

His brawny shoulders and rippling muscles belied the fact that this man worked behind a desk. The dark, silky hair matting his chest tantalized her, but her hands fisted into the sheets as he loomed closer. She knew he’d be as dangerous to touch as a real wolf.

It was a danger that strangely appealed to her.

Sarah sucked in a deep breath. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“But I’m so glad you are.” He reached out one broad hand and lightly traced the length of the red glove encasing her left arm.

His touch was hypnotic. Her gaze followed his hand as it trailed up her forearm, then down again. She should make some kind of excuse, jump out of this bed and run right out the door.

Only the diamond necklace was still in her picnic basket, and that basket sat directly beneath the safe. If she left it behind, could Michael find a way to trace it to her? She needed time to think. A new plan.

But thought became impossible when Michael leaned even closer, the canopy drape falling closed behind him so that they were now enclosed in silky darkness. Only the barest hint of light glowed behind the golden drapes.

Michael’s face was hidden in the shadows, which just made everything seem more unreal. More dreamlike.

Until he kissed her. The taste of him was very real. Dizzying. Delicious. His warm, firm mouth skimmed her lips in a way that actually made her lean into him for more.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he deepened the kiss and she had to grab his broad shoulders to keep from falling back on the bed. Her fingers encountered warm skin and hard muscle that flexed beneath her touch.

Michael moved beside her on the bed, never breaking the kiss, as his fingers slid down the length of her throat to the bow tied at the collar of her cloak. He worked it with his fingers until it loosened, the fabric gaping to reveal the red silk blouse she wore underneath.

He broke the kiss and used both hands to reverently lower the hood, revealing her hair tied back in a ponytail. He released it, so that her wayward dark curls hung about her face. Winding one loosely around his index finger, he brushed it against the rough whiskers on his jaw.

“Soft.” His voice was husky, his eyes intense.

Desire pooled low in her belly as Michael slid her cloak off her shoulders, his hungry gaze roaming over her body.

Sarah reached out one hand, but instead of pushing him away, she placed her palm flat against his chest. The silky hair there trickled between her fingers. Her touch made his chest muscles contract and she could feel the fast gallop of his heart beneath her hand.

Almost as fast as her own. “My, what big muscles you have,” she whispered, knowing instinctively how risky it was to tease a wolf. But Sarah couldn’t seem to stop herself. She didn’t want to stop.

“All the better to hold you with, my dear.” Then Michael kissed her again, even more hungrily this time. He enveloped her shoulders with his grip, the warmth of his big hands seeping through the thin silk of her blouse.

He pulled her closer, until her body was flush against his own. Silk against skin. Soft against hard. The intimate contact made her long for more. Made her forget everything but this man. This moment.

As his mouth devoured her, his fingers stalked the buttons of her blouse. The zipper on her skirt. Until she wore nothing but her lacy red bra and panties, lingerie bought on a whim yesterday to implement her New Year’s resolution to take more risks. No more boring beige underwear.

No more boring beige life.

“My, what big hands you have,” she gasped as his touches became more intimate.

She could sense rather than see his predatory smile.

“All the better to ravish you with, my dear.”

Then he did just that, but with a fierce tenderness that both touched and aroused her. Michael’s big hands peeled away her bra with such sensual skill that Sarah thought she must be dreaming.

Then those incredible hands moved lower.

A midnight madness now consumed her and she simply couldn’t think at all anymore. Only feel. The hard length of his body pressed against her. The skilled pressure of his hands. The urgent heat of his kisses.

Soon they were both naked. Both voracious. Both hunting for the pleasure they knew they’d only find in each other.

Michael tasted every inch of her. His tongue stroking her breasts. Her belly. The inside of her thighs. His ravenous exploration of her body driving her wild. A wildness he seemed to share when she did the same to him.

“Oh, Red,” he moaned, his breath coming in short pants as her hair swept over his belly. Strangled groans of desire emanated from deep in his chest.

At last, Michael pulled her up to kiss him. Frantically. Reverently. Her naked body now lay atop his own and she wasn’t surprised to find they fit perfectly together.

Then he rolled her under him, reaching into a drawer and retrieving a condom in the same movement. He tore it open with his teeth, then inhaled a choked breath as she slowly rolled it on him.

When he reached up to remove her mask, she shook her head, determined to remain anonymous, to perpetuate the fantasy. They were two strangers in the night. No names. No questions. No promises.

Only Michael did make promises. With his hands. His mouth. His body. At last he sank into her, moving with deliberate slowness to draw out the exquisiteness of the moment. She’d never made love like this before. Never with so much savage hunger. So much need. So much passion. Animal passion that now consumed her, bringing out her most primal instincts. Her hands raked across his back as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

“Michael,” she cried, wanting more of him. All of him.

“Red,” he breathed, sweeping his lips across her mouth and shifting his body in a way that heightened the incredible sensations twisting through her.

It was enough to send her over the edge.

She took him with her, his body tensing in her arms, then shuddering with one final thrust. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breathing as harsh and uneven as her own. When at last he collected himself, he turned onto his side, pulling her with him.

“I won’t let you go,” he whispered, even as his eyelids drooped. His arm tightened around her, pulling her even closer.

Sarah relaxed against him, all her nerve endings still thrumming. The warmth of his large body enveloped her like a cocoon. She closed her eyes for a moment, still caught up in the fantasy, one she knew had to end very soon. But not yet.

Not quite yet.

SARAH AWOKE SLOWLY the next morning, the rays of the morning sun streaming through the open drapes. She winced at the brightness, yawned lazily, then suddenly she realized that she was naked beneath the silk sheets.

Naked in Michael Wolff’s arms.

Panic hit her like a jolt of caffeine. She’d fallen asleep last night. She hadn’t returned the necklace to the safe. She was in big trouble.

Her body tensed as she listened to the sound of Michael’s deep, even breathing. At least he was still asleep. She might still have a chance to make her escape before he awoke.

Carefully extricating herself from his arms, she slipped soundlessly out of the big round bed. How could she have fallen asleep last night? She remembered lying in his embrace, waiting for him to drift off. The warmth of his naked body pressed against her. The sated afterglow of her own. The dreamy visions of more nights together.

A dream that could never come true.

Instead, she’d created her own nightmare. She’d proved beyond all doubt that she wasn’t cut out for a life of crime—as if sleeping with her family’s archenemy hadn’t already done that.

But Sarah couldn’t let herself think about that now. She had to get dressed, get the necklace back in the safe, then get the hell out of there.

She frantically searched for the clothes he’d stripped off of her the night before. All she could find were her panties, bra, boots and the cloak. Her gloves, blouse and skirt had to still be in the bed with him.

Not willing to take the risk of waking him, she hastily pulled on her bra and panties, then tied the wrinkled red cloak around her neck. She placed her boots in the picnic basket, deciding not to put them on until she was out of the house. Her exit needed to be as silent as possible.

Her basket still sat directly beneath the safe. Thankfully, Michael hadn’t noticed it there last night or he might have gotten suspicious. He might have questioned her in his bed instead of making love to her there.

Memories of the night before washed over her, warming her cheeks. In the light of day, making love to Michael Wolff seemed like a huge mistake. But she’d worry about that later. After she was out of his house.

Padding silently to the safe, she slowly opened the panel. The slight squeal made her wince. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she didn’t see any movement from the bed, though the canopy drapes obscured her vision of Michael. She hoped he was a deep sleeper.

Fifty-four. Telling herself not to rush it, Sarah turned the dial on the safe, her fingers sensing the slight give in the tension of the dial when she reached the first number of the combination.

Thirteen. She reversed the direction of the dial, hearing her own rapid heartbeat in her ears.

Sixty-one. She heard the satisfying click as she reached the last number. Almost there.

Sarah slowly swung open the heavy steel door of the safe, thankful it didn’t squeak. Then she bent down and reached inside her basket for the worn velvet jewelry case, a case she hoped to never lay eyes on again.

Sarah carefully set the velvet case deep inside the safe, releasing a deep breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Then Michael’s cold, harsh voice turned her blood to ice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”