Alien Huntress 06 - Dark Taste of Rapture by Gena Showalter

Author:Gena Showalter [Showalter, Gena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Fiction, Paranormal, General
ISBN: 9781439175804
Google: xyrAni5sZd8C
Amazon: 1439175780
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2011-08-23T05:00:00+00:00

Twenty-one

EVERYTHING’S CLEAR.”

Hector’s voice drifted from the upstairs of Noelle’s home. Her heart drummed erratically as she navigated the foyer on shaky legs. She tried to concentrate on her surroundings rather than the gorgeous warrior she yearned to have in her bed. The floor was a lovely gold-veined marble, the wall tables carved from rich mahogany. Crystal vases and bowls rested on top and cast colorful flecks of light in every direction.

Still shaking, she climbed the winding staircase and walked the plush carpet of one of her many hallways, and entered her private wing.

She found him standing in the doorway of her bedroom, peering inside, as though frozen. His back was to her, but he sensed her and stiffened.

Brushing past him, she breathed in the scent of wild sky and clean laundry. After she’d hung up with Marsha, he’d driven her home. She hadn’t been ready to part with him, so she’d played the it’s dark out, and I’m afraid to go in alone card.

Whether he’d believed her or not, he’d checked every shadow, every closet for the bogeyman.

As she’d waited for him to finish, her mind had replayed their earlier kiss and her blood had heated. He was here, in her home. They were utterly alone. The low simmer of arousal she’d experienced all evening had exploded, demanding its due. Demanding satisfaction, no matter what he’d said about being too dangerous, no matter that she’d decided to think things through first.

And he didn’t appear ready to leave …

He leaned against the jamb, and stuffed his hands in his back pockets. He wasn’t looking at her, was studying her bedroom. A single sweep of his gaze, and he had memorized every detail, she would bet.

What did he think of the large, canopied bed, with the ice-blue silk draping the sides? Too girly? What did he think of the matching curtains, the fabric so sheer, so delicate, the golden rays of the sun seeped through the window every morning, haloing every inch with rings of shimmering fire? Too romantic?

He probably liked the stone hearth, with two thickly cushioned chairs in front of it, a small, round table between them. And the books … maybe. They were the real thing, with paper pages, and colorful covers, not the electronic pads. The books were old, some of them brittle, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, part with them. Before Ava, those books had been her favorite, and often only, companions.

Noelle pictured Hector standing on her balcony, her garden surrounding him as he smoked a cigar. She’d never seen him smoke a cigar before, but whatever. She pictured him bathing in her natural spring, even crooking his finger at her, silently demanding she join him.

The water remained warm year round, always bubbling, always whirling. Even now, steam curled from the surface, winding through the air like ivy, clinging to the ceiling. Beyond that was her bathroom, complete with an enzyme shower, as well as a real water shower, a vanity mirror and chair, and a black and gold granite countertop.

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