Page 37 of Her Only Hero

He frowned. “Without me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

I caressed his neck. “That’s not true. I got myself into this mess, remember?”

“Well, we won’t harp on this anymore.” He put his lips to mine and pulled me close. Our kiss lingered and deepened, heating me inside and out. We undid each other’s shirt buttons and laughed at the awkwardness of our tangled arms. He sat on the bed, and I stood between his thighs. His expert mouth moved across my cleavage. He was in no hurry to unhook my bra. I closed my eyes, relishing the sensation. My hands cradled his neck, and then I ran my fingers through his hair. I floated as if without gravity.

Behind my closed lids flashed an image of Aram. Dark hair, brows, lashes, electric aquamarine eyes. Breath caught in my throat, and I stepped back, winded.

Patrick looked up at me, as if he was just wrenched from a dream. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” I moved to continue where we had left off. He undid the button on my pants. They slipped down, and I stepped out of them. “Stand up for a sec,” I said. He obliged, and I undid his trousers.

He kissed my shoulders and slipped his arms around my body. Before he could unsnap my bra, I angled away from him.

Shit.

What was wrong with me?

His lips parted as if about to speak, but he remained silent. I had behaved in this manner when we had first become intimate. And now I was re-enacting that same push-pull.

Aram. It was because of seeing Aram I’d regressed into this mode. I didn’t know what else to call it.

“June,” Patrick said. “It’s all right. How about we just cash out? We have an early morning planned.” He stood and pulled back the bed sheets.

“Stop,” I said. I would not let phantom emotions from the past impede on being with Patrick. I’d do what I had to do to get past it.

He stopped and crooked a brow.

“Stay there. Don’t move,” I said and dashed out of the room. I leaned against a wall in the hallway to catch my breath. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. Wait. I had an idea.

I scurried down the stairs to the wall unit. I turned on the stereo and found a station with melodic pop music. Perfect for upping an intimate atmosphere. In the kitchen, I opened the top drawer of the cabinet and retrieved what I wanted. I raced back upstairs and paused in the doorway, short-winded from running. Panting wasn’t overly sexy, and I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Shirtless, Patrick’s triceps flexed as he pulled down the window blind. He turned, and his mouth curved into an affectionate grin. “You put on music.”

“I did.” I pushed my shoulders back and jutted out a hip. I took my hand from behind my back and held up his handcuffs. “Once more, for old times’ sake?”

His eyes scanned the entire length of me. I’m sure he soaked in every detail. He was, after all, a cop.

“You’re taking me on what charge?” he said.

“For being the sexiest man I’ve ever known.”

“In that case, I surrender.”

Chapter Nineteen

Light kisses on my shoulder roused me from sleep.

“Hmm, good morning,” I said in a low voice.

“Good morning, my goddess of the hunt,” Patrick said, his soft breath at my neck.

I smiled. Yes, he could say that. I had, after all, captured and contained him with his own handcuffs. My eyes sprang open. “Patrick, your hands. Are they okay?”

He opened a hand, made a fist, and opened it again. “All good. Circulation is back.”

I cringed at the thought of having locked the cuffs too tight. “I feel awful. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I, uh, didn’t want to interrupt,” he said.

---