Night Resurrected by Colleen Gleason

Author:Colleen Gleason
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter 14

Wyatt wasn’t certain whether he was asking Remy or himself. What the hell are you doing?

No, definitely himself. Stupid fucking idiot.

Remy was looking up at him, her eyes wide with shock and, probably, hurt. Christ.

“You do this often?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the roughness from his voice. His knees were about ready to give out and it had taken every bit of conscience to pull himself out of that dangerous vortex of desire. He could hardly catch his breath, found it hard to focus his emotions where they should be: on disgust. Instead, his body hummed with desire and more. More, more, more.

No, he told himself flatly. You can’t.

“What . . . what are you talking about?” Remy recovered quickly, he noted with relief. That flash of spirit was back in her eyes—at least as far as he could tell in the iffy light.

What? Why not? He struggled desperately for a reason. Any reason that wasn’t the truth. “I’m not interested in walking in Ian Marck’s footsteps. But you can try for Vaughn Rogan . . . he might be desperate enough not to ca—”

She shoved him. Hard enough to catch him in the lungs and cut off the rest of his sentence, but not hard enough to make him stumble. “You’re damn lucky I don’t have my gun with me. God, Wyatt, it’s like every time I begin to like you, to think you actually have a human side, you have to act like a real bastard.”

Like him? Holy shit, he’d fucked things up more than he realized.

Wyatt shook his head, which was, thankfully, beginning to clear. “Were you or were you not sleeping with Ian Marck for the last two days? And were you or were you not flirting your ass off with Vaughn Rogan ten minutes ago? And now you’re coming on to me because . . . why? Because I’m standing here? Because I’m convenient?”

He didn’t know why he was even explaining himself, or giving her the chance to do the same. He didn’t generally bother. If someone screwed with him, that was it. He was done. He didn’t have the time or the stomach for excuses and platitudes.

“The only sleeping I’ve done with Ian—or with anyone since . . . since . . .” Her voice broke, sending a sharp stab of guilt through him, but she soldiered on before he could say anything. “. . . since I came to Yellow Mountain, is the simple sharing of body heat. Which, I might mention, you couldn’t even bring yourself to do when we were in the truck.”

Wyatt snorted. “You expect me to believe that?”

Then all at once understanding lit her face. She straightened and glared up at him. “And how the hell do you know I was with Ian two days ago? Were you spying on me?”

Fuck. Didn’t think that one through. Just went to show how scrambled his brains were. A mistake like that could have cost him his life over in Iraq.

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