A Night of Southern Comfort by Covington Robin

Author:Covington, Robin [Covington, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, detective, kidnapping, Indulgence, one-night-stand, doctor, Robin Covington, Virginia, police officer, Romance, politics, contemporary romance
Publisher: Entangled Publishing (Indulgence)
Published: 2012-06-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Michaela woke to the sound of talking.

The darkness was deep and the house still, except for the unease she panted out into the air. She’d been dreaming—of Jackson touching her, holding her, making her feel good as only he could. The kisses they’d shared still burned on her lips. She’d tossed and turned to the sounds of his moving around her living room before finally drifting off into sleep. Now, she waited in the dark, straining to figure out what had woken her. Silence. The only voice was the one running in a continuous loop in her head telling her to stop thinking about Jackson lying naked in her guest room.

She fell back onto her pillow. Having him so near was wreaking havoc on her usual composure—what did Jackson call it?—oh yeah, the Ice Queen. Ice water was what she needed in her veins if she had any chance of keeping her hands off his body until this investigation was over. She had no doubt that he’d catch the guy and then escape to DC at the first chance. He’d made that much clear. But that didn’t stop her from wanting him for whatever time she could have him.

“Stop.”

Michaela sat up with a jolt. Okay, that wasn’t a dream. Heart pounding in her chest, she flipped on the bedside light and immediately regretted her action. Wasn’t that exactly what the dumb girl always did in horror flicks right before she officially became Dead Hot Chick Number Three?

“No. Stop.”

The voice came from the far corner of her room. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a lone figure sitting in her upholstered side chair.

Jackson. He was watching over her while she slept.

That was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

If he was going to sleep in the same room with her, then he was going to sleep with her. This dancing around each other was ridiculous. She wanted him for as long as she could have him and on any terms he offered. To pretend otherwise was only guaranteed to make her crazy.

Throwing back the covers, she scooted out of bed, barely registering the cool floorboards against her feet. Approaching him cautiously, she heard him mumbling under his breath—words of caution in a tone laced with demand—but he was still asleep.

His face was all angles and shadows in the half-light, his strong jaw covered in a dusting of day-old beard. Lashes, lush and black, were crescent moons emphasizing the bruising of fatigue layered just under his skin. He wore the T-shirt and jeans from earlier, but his feet were bare—a sight that caused her skin to tingle. Feet had never been sexy before, but his were long and finely arched, and their nakedness reminded her of the Jackson she’d spent the night with in Roanoke. The sexy, open, daring lover who’d taken hours to pleasure her with his body and his irresistible mastery of sexy, dirty talk.

Mr. Webster would’ve been proud.

Mumbling incoherently, Jackson shifted in the chair, the muscles in his face bunched with tension.

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