Excerpt from Night Heat
Rhea and Marcus have just ridden out a Hurricane together.
Rhea tossed on the bed in frustration. Next door, in Marcus’ room, all was quiet. She guessed he had fallen blithely asleep, comfortable with whatever plans he had made to forge a relationship that did not exist. She couldn’t allow it to exist. She gave up all attempts at sleeping and instead lay miserably among the twisted sheets, waiting out the night, aching for the sun to come up and chase away the darkness.
The doorknob turned. In the dim light of her single candle, she peered at the door, wondering who the hell it could be. Yet, somehow, she didn’t need to ask. Marcus slipped in quietly and shut the door behind him. As the door clicked, she felt her heart leap with fear.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice was too high for her liking.
“Rhea, please,” he said tiredly. He spoke barely above a whisper, not in an effort to remain undetected, but through sheer fatigue. “Please, don’t fight me.” His shadow danced across the walls of the small room as he moved towards her.
“But what are you doing here?” The veil of sleep had been snatched from her eyes, and she sat up with the sheets around her waist, tense.
“That’s a stupid question.” He sat on the edge of the bed, giving it a huge sink that caused her to roll towards him. He began untying the laces of his shoes.
Rhea rolled away from him and scowled. “It’s not a stupid question. It’s a perfectly legitimate question. This is my room.”
He pulled off his socks and stood to unbuckle his jeans. “Rhea, please, it’s been a hard day. I just want to sleep, okay?”
“So sleep in your own room! What about Jodelle?”
“She’s out like a candle. She isn’t going anywhere. And I don’t want to go to my own room. I want to sleep here, with you.” He sounded like a little boy who’d had a nightmare, and wanted to crawl into bed with his mother. Rhea almost relented. The exhausted, vulnerable look he cast in her direction, added to the fact that he had now stripped to his shorts, and that his body glowed like a fine sculpture in the light of the candle, was causing her resistance to soften.
“I don’t want you sleeping here.” She said petulantly, not taking her eyes off his smooth chest. She’d been lying there, telling herself all the reasons she shouldn’t succumb to him, but then in he walks, shucking off his clothes, and all of a sudden she wasn’t so determined any more. Damn, he looked good.
He climbed into bed next to her. “Scoot over.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a single bed. There’s only room in it for one person. If you have to sleep in here, there’s another bed in this room. Use it.”
“The other bed doesn’t have you in it.” He shifted around next to her like a huge dog, trying to find a comfortable spot.
She shoved him hard with an elbow. “Marcus...!”
He shoved her back over. It was a tight fit. “Come on, we’ll both fit if we sleep like spoons.” He turned onto his side and tried to pull her against him. “Rhea,” he said softly, “I’m not here to molest you. If you want the truth, I’m too tired to molest you. I’m only here to sleep. But it’s been a long day and my body aches all over. I nearly lost my whole life last night. All I want is the comfort of lying next to you as I fall asleep. For God’s sake, don’t deny me that.”
His body stretched out warm and vital next to hers, and in spite of herself she realised that she wanted to stretch out against him and go to sleep. Still, she resisted. “I haven’t had a shower all day,” she protested irrationally.
“Neither have I. But I’m sure we both smell just fine. Go to sleep.”
“What if the others see you coming out of here in the morning? I’m a businesswoman. Do you have any idea what it would do to my image?”
“I’ll be up early and back in my room before anyone else is awake. You won’t even hear me leave.” He hoisted himself up on one elbow, stretched over her, and blew out the candle. Then he settled back against her body with a contented sigh and slid a proprietary arm around her waist. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” His breath fanned softly against the nape of her neck. He was asleep before she could answer.
She lay in the dark, with her back against his chest. Playing spoons, he’d called it. She lay immobile, listening in spite of herself to her body as it hummed softly against his, contented. She settled against him, feeling him, enjoying every curve and plane of him, until her breathing took on his own rhythm, and she sank slowly beneath the surface of sleep.
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