Power Exchange by Rose AJ

Author:Rose, AJ [Rose, AJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Voodoo Lily Press
Published: 2012-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The back door to Ben's house swung open in silent invitation, the living room beyond dark and eerily quiet. The sun had mostly set, and it was dark enough that the room was bathed in ominous shadow. A thrill of uncertainty pranced up my spine.

"Ben?" I called into the cavernous space, not touching the door to close it. My cop instincts hummed, coiled to spring. The house, always inviting and warm, was a dark cacophony of silence, the lack of sound so loud my ears rang. My hackles rose. "Ben?" I called again. I wondered if I’d misremembered his invitation, that maybe I was supposed to meet him for dinner out instead of at his house. But no, his afternoon text message had clearly said his house at eight-thirty, if I was free.

When I didn't hear an immediate answer, I began to tremble, a cold certainty I was walking into something I was unprepared for shivering over my skin like the caress of a skeletal hand. I called one more time. "Ben! Are you here?"

"Yeah, I'm here!" his voice answered, sending a wave of relief reverberating through my body. I couldn't pinpoint his location from his voice, so I shut the back door and turned on the living room lights, banishing the unsettling dark.

"Where's 'here'?" I called.

"Right here," he replied, coming through a door beside the kitchen that led down a set of steps to his basement. He held two bottles of wine in his hands, studying the labels as he walked toward me, and looked up at the last moment with a smile that dimpled his smooth cheek. "Hey," he purred, leaning in for a kiss. I didn't know he meant for it to be as lingering or heated as it quickly became, but both of us were reluctant to pull away.

My heart had resumed its normal jog, and I breathed a sigh of relief as we pulled apart. Briefly resting my forehead to his, I took a moment to soak in his proximity, his warmth and smell. His smile widened. I matched it with one of my own. Pushing away the blossom of unease that remained, I let go and followed him to the kitchen.

"Why are all the lights out?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Just got home a little bit ago. Changed clothes and ran downstairs to get the wine so I could open it and let it breathe before dinner. I hope you don't mind takeout," he said, rummaging through a drawer and fishing out a corkscrew, using it to point at the heavy paper bag I'd just noticed on the counter, which explained why his house smelled so wonderful. "I meant to cook, but had an emergency session with a patient, which pushed all my afternoon appointments back an hour. Then Laura accosted me as I was leaving and accused me of avoiding her, so I stayed to chat longer than I wanted to."

I caught a hint of steeliness in his voice, and he wouldn't meet my eyes, concentrating on sinking the point of the screw into the cork and twisting.

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