Run the Risk by Lori Foster

outside? He looked toward the
window. Was she afraid a flash of lightning would show him something? Like what? Thinking to encourage her, he said, “You
don’t need to—”
    “And you have to keep your hands to yourself.”
    Thoughts, ugly suspicions, bounded this way and that. He gave
her a gentle kiss. “I don’t understand.” Any of it, including the driving need
to discover her hang-ups. “I’ve got my hands on you now.” He emphasized that by
tucking her hair back, smoothing her cheek with his thumb.
    “I don’t want you…feeling around on me.”
    Moving his body over hers, he growled, “I can feel you. All of
you.” He closed his eyes at the giving softness of her curves, the open cradle
of her thighs. “You’re soft and hot and—”
    A little panicked—or else very close to the edge of release—she
said in a high voice, “Promise me right now, or we’re done.”
    Unease warred with conviction. He couldn’t keep from brushing
gentle kisses on the bridge of her nose, her brow, and he wanted to go on
kissing her. Everywhere. “Whatever it is, honey, I swear to you, it’s okay.”
    “It’s me.” Stroking her hands around to his back, fraught with
uncertainty, she clutched at him. “I need my clothes on. I need the lights out.
I need you to keep your hands mostly to yourself.”
    Jesus. “When I mentioned high school, I wasn’t looking for a
reenactment.”
    She sucked in a breath. “Fine.” Shaking, she pushed against him
while trying to turn away from him. “Then let’s forget about—”
    “No way.” He brought her face back around to his and again
kissed her, softer, deeper. “You can trust me, Sue.” Like
hell. “I won’t hurt you.” Damn it.
    In the near darkness, they watched each other. Her eyes
glimmered, but he couldn’t see her well enough to decipher her thoughts.
    She touched his jaw. “Let me up.”
    Damn, damn, damn. Flopping over to his back with a groan, Logan
stared toward the ceiling, hot, frustrated, but mostly troubled. From the knees
down, his legs hung over the end of the bed.
    The part the rain had soaked.
    The wind howled eerily, suiting his mood. Thunder crashed, and
he felt it in his chest.
    He didn’t want things to end like this.
    He rose up on one arm. “Sue?” It amazed him that he kept the
forethought to continue using her alias. There remained just enough light
filtering in for him to see her shadowy form as she lifted her skirt.
    Lust tied him in knots. He drew in necessary oxygen. “What are
you doing?”
    “Taking off my panties.” She dropped them on the floor and
crossed to the window to close the heavy curtains. “ Only my panties.”
    His heart thundered. “Yeah, all right.” Lust cut into him. When
he felt her approach, he dropped back to the bed in an agony of suspense, breath
held, erection straining.
    Her hands went to the fastening of his jeans. With a small tug,
she opened the snap. “I shouldn’t do this,” she said.
    He heartily disagreed.
    She pushed his jeans down to his knees. “I’ll probably regret
it.”
    He wouldn’t let her feel regret. Somehow he’d make it okay—
    Her hand curled around him, and his thoughts shattered on a
rough groan.
    Keeping his cock held tight in her small, hot hand, she climbed
onto the bed to straddle his hips. She’d lifted her skirt; her panties were
indeed gone. “Please don’t ruin this for me, Logan.”
    “No.” Hell, no. “I won’t.”
    Sitting back a little, she stroked him once, then released him.
“Can you put on this condom?”
    Where the hell had she gotten it?
    Screw it, he didn’t care. He found her hand in the darkness and
took the rubber from her. “Yeah, no problem.” Amazing that he felt so close; it
hadn’t been that long for him. He shouldn’t be so wired, so fucking desperate to
get inside her.
    She was plain, timid, with a nondescript build and more secrets
than he could count.
    She was a pawn in his scheme to corral the murderous Morton
Andrews.
    But