Chosen by Desire by Kate Perry

surged in reply to her cry, the rasp of the Egyptian cotton sheet unbearable. He pushed the covers aside and paced his room. “Damn it.”
    He waited, hoping she’d go to sleep so he could return to bed. He knew he was out of luck when he heard her get out of bed and open her door.
    He stilled. Where was she going? To meet someone? He remembered catching Rhys red-handed with Amanda, and his blood went cold. Putting on a pair of pajama pants, he stalked to the door and silently opened it.
    Carrie tiptoed down the stairs, her body obscured by the railing.
    He ducked behind the door when she paused and looked over her shoulder. He saw her shrug and continue down the stairs.
    Max glanced right. Her door was open.
    He strode into the room and stiffened. Energy from the Book of Water crawled over him, making the mark on his shoulder prickle. His gaze swung to the bag on the floor next to the bed, and he walked toward it.
    He didn’t have to open it to know the scroll was in there. He considered taking it, but he needed to figure out what Carrie was up to first.
    He glanced at the bed, the covers twisted and rumpled. A hint of strawberries overlaid by musk flirted with his nostrils. Carrie’s scent. It reminded him of summer and sex, and his cock stirred again.
    Cursing under his breath, he strode out of her room and downstairs to find out where she went. The thought that she could be meeting someone made his chi flare wildly.
    He searched the library, his office, and the living room. He was about to step outside to check the grounds when he noticed a faint light from the kitchen. He crept down the hall and looked around the corner.
    She sat on a stool at the counter, her feet swinging as she drank a glass of milk. She wore a thin, oversized shirt that rode up her thighs and showed the outline of her nipples.
    The combination of sexiness and innocence grabbed him low. He could see the shadow of her panties underneath, and he wondered if they’d be wet from her earlier arousal.
    He breathed deeply to center himself and stepped into the kitchen.
    She looked up, and her eyes widened as they roved down his bare chest, to his pajama bottoms, and back up. Her cheeks went up in flames.
    He crossed his arms, standing across the counter from her. “Couldn’t sleep?”
    “Um, no.” She held up the glass. “Warm milk never fails. Want some?”
    Milk was not what he wanted. He shook his head.
    “My mom used to warm milk for me when I couldn’t sleep as a kid. I think she brainwashed me into believing it worked.” She smiled, cradling her glass.
    “Do you have trouble sleeping often?”
    “Not at all. I think it’s the change of environment.” She looked out the window. “The water’s been plaguing me all day.”
    He frowned. “Excuse me?”
    She waved toward the ocean, though it was invisible in the night. “The water. It’s everywhere. I’ve lived in San Francisco all these years and I’ve never been so
viscerally
aware of it. It’s like I can feel the condensation of the mist in the air, even.”
    Effects of the scroll, without a doubt. If she were a Guardian, the effects would be magnified. He just wished he knew how much she was being affected. How much had she read? What did she know?
    “It’s so weird,” Carrie went on. “I’ve been having these dreams about the water and—” She gasped, gaping at him.
    With guilt? No. With embarrassment—mixed with heat? Intrigued despite himself, he took a step closer.
    She downed her milk and slid off the stool. Her shirt caught on the seat, revealing creamy thighs and a peek of white panties. She tugged her shirt so forcefully the stool teetered.
    He reached to steady it at the same time she did, and his hand brushed the outside of her hip.
Jn ch’i
surged, and he stilled, stunned by its intensity.
    With a yelp, she jumped back. “I, um, need to get to bed. I mean, go to sleep. Good night.” She edged backward. At the doorway, she turned and scurried down the hall,