McQueen's Heat by Harper Allen

Author:Harper Allen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
Published: 2012-05-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Lying on her bed, Tamara stared into the darkness, wondering what had possessed her to spill her tawdry little confession to Stone McQueen. She’d been wondering that for the past hour, ever since she’d spoken those last shameful words and had fallen silent, waiting for him to respond.

He hadn’t. He’d looked down at his hands, still wrapped around hers. His jaw had clenched into rigidity.

Were you hoping he’d give you absolution? The voice in her head was mocking. McQueen’s never been able to absolve himself, so how did you think he’d help you off the hook?

When she’d pulled away he’d let her go. He hadn’t looked up as she’d left the kitchen.

He’d known what she wanted him to say, but he hadn’t been able to give her the comforting lies she needed. She wasn’t fool enough to think what she’d told him had wounded him personally in any way, or naive enough to believe a man like McQueen would have been shocked at her confession. But he knew her. He knew that what another woman might have been able to accept as a regrettable moral lapse had been much more to her.

You wanted to look into its face. You thought you might see yourself looking back.

Right from the start McQueen had seen into the most hidden corner of her soul, had guessed at her most dreadful suspicion. For as long as she could remember she’d lived with the fear that she couldn’t trust herself—that the chaos she saw raging around her when she went up against the beast had somehow escaped from her. And on the morning following that night of uncontrolled passion, she’d known all her fears were true.

The blackness behind her closed eyes lightened suddenly to charcoal, and her pain was instantly transformed into trembling anger.

“Get the hell out of my bedroom, McQueen.” She opened her eyes as she spoke, and saw him silhouetted in the doorway of her room. What remaining tears she hadn’t yet had a chance to shed thickened her voice. “That’s one of the house rules, remember?”

“I’m tired of the rules, honey.”

He walked over to the bed. He was barefoot and bare chested, Tamara saw, suddenly all too aware that under the concealing bedclothes she herself was wearing a sleep shirt and nothing else. He looked down at her, his expression closed.

“And not just yours. I’m tired of my own, too.” He flapped his hand impatiently at her. “Shove over. I’m coming in.”

He’d actually reached down to flip back the sheets before she found her voice. “Are you out of your mind?” She scrambled awkwardly to a kneeling position, stiff with disbelief. “You even try to get in this bed with me, McQueen, and you’ll wish you hadn’t. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Even as the outraged question left her lips she knew the answer. She felt the breath leave her body in a rush.

“You think the rules have changed, don’t you? You think if I’d do it once, what’s the harm in seeing if I’ll do it again, this time with you.

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