knees on either side of his hips, putting her in direct contact with his straining arousal. He closed his eyes and reveled in the myriad sensations caused by the move.
Then he heard an ominous click and he looked up to find himself staring down the muzzle of an all-too-familiar gun. Holding it was Akela, looking tousled and sexy as hell—and very much in control.
She licked her lips. “I told you when the gun was back in my hands, we were going to have that conversation again.”
E VEN AS A KELA’S THIGHS burned where they squeezed his hips, his powerful erection pressing against her delicates, she aimed her firearm. The metal was heavy in her free hand but she was well trained in the art of one-hand shooting. Besides, at this close range she couldn’t miss.
Claude’s green eyes took her in. “Ah, I wondered what you were hiding when I came in and you were pretending to be asleep.”
“Unlock the cuffs.”
Akela watched as he reached for the chain around his neck. She backed up a hair to give him the room he needed to ensure he couldn’t take the gun. Then she heard the teeth from her cuffs give as Claude released the metal shackle from her wrist.
She immediately grasped the gun in both hands.
Claude lay back and considered her.
“Do it,” he said quietly.
Akela’s throat tightened. She hadn’t retrieved the firearm in order to kill him. She’d merely been trying to regain her freedom.
“Go ahead, shoot. The way things look, I’m a dead man, anyway.”
She blinked at him, thinking he couldn’t be serious.
She began to climb off him.
That’s when he made his move. He took advantage of her being off balance and grasped her wrists, forcing the muzzle of the gun away from him at the same time he rolled her over, his body pinning her to the bed, his hips solidly between her legs. The gun was above her head, held there by his strong hands. But he didn’t appear interested in trying to take it from her. Rather he was staring at her as if in disappointment.
For the life of her, Akela couldn’t figure out why he would be disappointed.
He rolled off her and pushed from the bed. Then he held his hand out to her. “I wasn’t going to do this until the sun goes down, but I can see I no longer have a choice.”
Akela swallowed hard, leaving her hands and the gun above her head. “Do what?”
He didn’t say anything.
Dropping the gun to her side, she took his hand with her free one and he hauled her from the bed.
“Gather your things and come on.”
Akela felt oddly out of sorts as she watched him turn and walk through the door. Keeping a tight grip on her gun, she quickly put her skirt and blouse back on, barely buttoning the top before joining him where he stood on the porch staring out at the bayou.
Shadows were lengthening and the autumn sunlight gave the mist-heavy air a purplish, surreal tint. A light breeze teased Spanish moss. The tall cypresses spoke to each other.
“You grew up here?”
Akela was somewhat surprised to hear her voice ask the question as she tucked her gun back into the holder inside her jacket. She was surprised further that she wanted to know the answer to it.
“Mmm. My brother and I were raised by our mother.”
“And your father?”
She felt his gaze on her and blinked to find him staring at her while he slowly fastened the buttons on his denim shirt. “Could have been one of three men, if you believed the rumors.”
“The truth?”
“He was a shopkeeper on the outskirts of the bayou who was already spoken for.”
“Married?”
“Yes.”
In the social circle in which Akela had been raised, being someone’s bastard child was tantamount to death. At least if the situation wasn’t socially remedied. The way her mother told it, if a woman in their social circle was in trouble, in the kind of situation Claude’s mother had been in, there was always the son of a congressman whosesexual orientation was in question who could pose as a perfectly good
Then he heard an ominous click and he looked up to find himself staring down the muzzle of an all-too-familiar gun. Holding it was Akela, looking tousled and sexy as hell—and very much in control.
She licked her lips. “I told you when the gun was back in my hands, we were going to have that conversation again.”
E VEN AS A KELA’S THIGHS burned where they squeezed his hips, his powerful erection pressing against her delicates, she aimed her firearm. The metal was heavy in her free hand but she was well trained in the art of one-hand shooting. Besides, at this close range she couldn’t miss.
Claude’s green eyes took her in. “Ah, I wondered what you were hiding when I came in and you were pretending to be asleep.”
“Unlock the cuffs.”
Akela watched as he reached for the chain around his neck. She backed up a hair to give him the room he needed to ensure he couldn’t take the gun. Then she heard the teeth from her cuffs give as Claude released the metal shackle from her wrist.
She immediately grasped the gun in both hands.
Claude lay back and considered her.
“Do it,” he said quietly.
Akela’s throat tightened. She hadn’t retrieved the firearm in order to kill him. She’d merely been trying to regain her freedom.
“Go ahead, shoot. The way things look, I’m a dead man, anyway.”
She blinked at him, thinking he couldn’t be serious.
She began to climb off him.
That’s when he made his move. He took advantage of her being off balance and grasped her wrists, forcing the muzzle of the gun away from him at the same time he rolled her over, his body pinning her to the bed, his hips solidly between her legs. The gun was above her head, held there by his strong hands. But he didn’t appear interested in trying to take it from her. Rather he was staring at her as if in disappointment.
For the life of her, Akela couldn’t figure out why he would be disappointed.
He rolled off her and pushed from the bed. Then he held his hand out to her. “I wasn’t going to do this until the sun goes down, but I can see I no longer have a choice.”
Akela swallowed hard, leaving her hands and the gun above her head. “Do what?”
He didn’t say anything.
Dropping the gun to her side, she took his hand with her free one and he hauled her from the bed.
“Gather your things and come on.”
Akela felt oddly out of sorts as she watched him turn and walk through the door. Keeping a tight grip on her gun, she quickly put her skirt and blouse back on, barely buttoning the top before joining him where he stood on the porch staring out at the bayou.
Shadows were lengthening and the autumn sunlight gave the mist-heavy air a purplish, surreal tint. A light breeze teased Spanish moss. The tall cypresses spoke to each other.
“You grew up here?”
Akela was somewhat surprised to hear her voice ask the question as she tucked her gun back into the holder inside her jacket. She was surprised further that she wanted to know the answer to it.
“Mmm. My brother and I were raised by our mother.”
“And your father?”
She felt his gaze on her and blinked to find him staring at her while he slowly fastened the buttons on his denim shirt. “Could have been one of three men, if you believed the rumors.”
“The truth?”
“He was a shopkeeper on the outskirts of the bayou who was already spoken for.”
“Married?”
“Yes.”
In the social circle in which Akela had been raised, being someone’s bastard child was tantamount to death. At least if the situation wasn’t socially remedied. The way her mother told it, if a woman in their social circle was in trouble, in the kind of situation Claude’s mother had been in, there was always the son of a congressman whosesexual orientation was in question who could pose as a perfectly good
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