In Bed With a Stranger Read Free Page B

But whose fault is that?’
    Mine , Kit wanted to say. All mine.
    What right did he have to forget that?
    Sophie’s eyes snapped open.
    She lay very still, staring into the soft summer darkness, all her senses on high alert as she listened out for a repeat of the sound that had woken her.
    Or maybe it hadn’t even been a sound. Maybe it was just a feeling. A dream perhaps? Or an instinct …
    She sat up, struggling from sleep, the hairs rising on the back of her neck. The blood was swishing in her ears, but outside she could hear the usual sounds of the city at night—traffic on the King’s Road, a distant siren, a car moving through the square below.
    And then something else, closer, inside the house. A muffled thud, like something being dropped, followed by the soft, heavy tread of someone coming slowly up the stairs.
    Sophie froze.
    Then, with a muttered curse, she kicked off the covers and scrambled to her feet on the bed, looking frantically around for a weapon and finding herself fervently wishing she’d taken up cricket or baseball. Her heart was galloping. It was no good—there was nothing remotely suited to fending off an intruder within reach, and she realised that she should simply have rolled off the bed and hidden underneath it …
    A shape appeared in the doorway, filling it, just as Sophie’s
pounding heart seemed to have filled her throat. It was too late to move now, too late to do anything but brazen it out.
    ‘Don’t move,’ she croaked. ‘I have a weapon.’
    With what sounded like a sigh the intruder took a step forwards.
    ‘Where I’ve just come from we don’t call that a weapon. We call that a TV remote.’
    His voice was hoarse with fatigue, sexy as hell and instantly familiar.
    ‘Kit!’
    It was a cross between a shout of jubilation and a sob. In a split second Sophie had bounded across the bed and he caught her as she hurtled into his arms, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist as their mouths met. Questions half formed themselves in her brain, bubbling up then dissolving again in the more urgent need to feel him and touch him and keep on kissing him …
    He lowered her onto the bed without breaking the kiss, and his mouth on hers was hard and hungry. Sliding her hands into his hair, she felt grit. He smelled of earth and antiseptic, but beneath that she caught the scent that made her senses reel—the dry cedar-scent that was all his own, that she had craved like a drug.
    ‘I thought …’ she gasped ‘… you weren’t home … until tomorrow.’
    His lips found hers again.
    ‘I’m here now,’ he rasped against her.
    Now that they were both together on the bed, that was all that mattered.
    Desire gushed through her, slippery and quick. Laying her down on the bed, he straightened up, towering over her for a second. Shadows obscured his face, but in spite of the darkness she caught the silvery glitter of his eyes and it sent another wave of urgent need crashing through her. Rising up onto her knees, she pulled off her T-shirt, stopping with
her mouth the low moan he uttered as her naked body moved against him.
    ‘Are you all right?’ she murmured moments later, fumbling for the buttons on his shirt with shaking fingers.
    ‘Yes.’
    It was a primitive growl that came from low in his chest. He pulled away, half turning as he yanked his shirt from his trousers and wrenched it over his head. In that moment the light from the street filtering through a gap in the curtains caught his face and Sophie gasped.
    ‘No—you’re hurt. Kit, your face—’
    She got to her feet, reaching for him, taking his face between her hands and stroking her thumbs with great tenderness over the lacerations on his cheekbones until she felt him flinch away.
    ‘It’s nothing.’
    His hands slid around her waist as his mouth came down on hers again, and the feel of his bare chest, hard against her breasts, was enough to banish the anxiety that had leapt in her, along with every other thought in