Page 40 of Silent Comrade
“Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he snorted, the tightslash of his mouth relaxing.
What would it be like seeing this seriousguy let loose and fully laugh, like total-body laugh? What would helook like in a completely relaxed state, all defenses down?
At the blast of images featuring his sexy,reclining, laughing body on her bed, Britt’s muscles tightened intoa completely non-relaxed state. She couldn’t help it. Britt trackedhim as he sidled the three steps around the foot of her bed andslid down until he sat with his back to the wall. He extended hisfeet under her bed. She inhaled deeply the faint scent of pine treeand soap that followed him.
He filled the room.
He filled her senses.
He rested his head against the wall andflipped the cell phone on, scrolling through pictures—all the cameras documenting every aspect of herlife.
“Do you want to look?” He glanced up, thesmooth, low tone of voice both calming her and electrifying nerveendings.
“No.” She reached out and clicked off thelamp.
In the darkness, the cell phone screen casthis face in blue light.
“Britt?”
“Yes.”
“Iwillkeep Lequire from hurtingyou. That’s a promise.”
Chapter Eighteen
The nanosecond that the whispery, low murmurstarted, Red knew. His hearing might be blunted right now, but itstill worked better than any normal person’s.
He glanced at his phone. Just aftermidnight.
In the darkness, with outside lightsfiltering through the curtains, he stared at the small shape on themattress. When the sheets rustled in a crisp, clean airy sound thatsounded like leaves brushing against each other, he peered up overthe edge of the bed.
Britt mumbled again and flopped on her side.Then she turned back toward him, her arm dangling off the mattress,like she reached for him, even in sleep. A shadowed cleft betweenthe slight curve of her breasts above the low tank top necklineturned his mouth to dust. Then the sounds became louder with littlemoans and bats of her hand in the air.
“Britt?” he whispered, sitting forward.
She kept muttering. The thrashing got worse.Warm swishes of skin against cotton rasped against hisantidote-dulled hearing. His sleeping virus stirred. Even in asuppressed state, it needed to protect her.
Red needed not to scare her.
He quickly pulled out his phone and flippedthrough the images of uninteresting security footage. Held hisbreath and listened as best he could for any abnormal noisesoutside the apartment: nothing. He mentally reviewed egress pointsfrom this room and calculated how quickly he could escape withBritt. Plan set. Premises secure.
Kneeling next to the bed, he tried to stayin a nonthreatening, crouched posture. The last thing he wanted wasfor her to wake up with a man looming over her. She’d had enough ofthat kind of terror tonight. “You’re having a bad dream, sweets.Come on, now.” Like he’d soothed many a crying foster sibling overthe years. Anything to keep that one foster parent from noticingthem.
He pushed his memories away and insteadconcentrated on the woman who had almost died tonight. If he’d beena half-step slower, this evening’s situation might have turned outwith a completely different ending. Even in the dim lighting, theshadows of bruises over her neck pissed him off, all overagain.
Mission. Focus. He stared at the tangle ofhair around her head, dark wisps against the light pillow. Heswallowed. Mission. Focus.
“Britt?” He lightly stroked the back of herwrist. Her soft skin was cool to the touch. Holding back adesperate instinct to clamp down and hold on, he curled his fingersgently around her hand. Giving warmth and support, but notrestraining her.
“Al?” Her voice broke.
Something in his chest broke right alongwith her. “Right here. Not going anywhere.”
Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, shelaced her fingers with his. With her other chilly hand, she touchedhis face. The tangy, carbonated scratch of her nails against hisstubble sent liquid sparks through every nerve in his body. Theweakened virus strained, wanting him to get closer. Red took abreath and mentally walled off the impulse.
He didn’t move. Couldn’t. She hadimmobilized him with the light touch of fingers on his cheek. Hertiny sigh glittered like prisms through stained glass.
