Less Than a Treason by Stabenow Dana

Author:Stabenow, Dana [Stabenow, Dana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, thriller, Crime, Suspense, Romance, Adult
Amazon: B06WGQ3HVK
Goodreads: 34308685
Publisher: Gere Donovan Press
Published: 2017-05-06T07:00:00+00:00

A hand slid deliciously down her spine. She arched her back, legs parting eagerly to wrap around—

A car door slammed and someone shouted something and Kate was yanked rudely from sleep into the darkness of an Arctic winter morning, aroused and annoyed about it.

For the last four months her body had been fully concentrated on healing itself and nothing else. Convincing her inner organs to settle down from the trauma of having been so rudely disarranged by bullet and scalpel, keeping her food down, moving without pain, sleeping without nightmares, and regaining her physical strength, she had bent all her formidable powers of concentration on becoming the Kate Shugak she had been before Ken Halvorsen had shot her. She would settle for nothing less, and allow no time for anything else, not other people, not other concerns and certainly not sex.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sex, and it sure wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it with Jim Chopin, but it had been four months and she felt a little, what, gun shy? She had tested her body repeatedly over the healing process, in tearing down Old Sam’s cabin, in building another, and in continual hikes into the surrounding terrain, much of it vertical and all of it at an altitude that forced her body to work that much harder.

So now that she had regained her health it appeared that her subconscious had decided that it was time to include something else. Great. She should have expected it, and she probably would have had she given it any thought. Her college roommate had once told her, “The body must be cleaned and fucked regularly.” Kate had been shocked at such frank speech, until she met a man who knew what the hell he was doing, after which she thought her roommate might know what she was talking about after all.

She shifted restlessly and threw off the covers to cool down. The clock on the nightstand read 7:30 a.m, late for her, but then Brendan had kept her out past her bedtime. She got up and went to the bathroom. The overhead light was bright and unforgiving, illuminating every blemish on the face and body of the woman staring back at her, beginning with the scar the size and shape of a quarter between and below her breasts. Dead center, was what they called that. She raised her chin, her hand going to her throat. The scar bisecting it predated the new scar by nearly a decade and over time it had faded from red to silver to a pale olive and had reduced in size from a rope of abused tissue to a thread. The effect was still felt, though, whenever she spoke, a rough husk of sound somewhere between Tom Waits and the crunch of gravel beneath monster truck tires, although that, too, had moderated over time. Jim had told her once she was starting to sound like Scarlett Johanssen, with a soupçon of Darth Vader.

It was only normal that as she regained her health that her sex drive would wake back up, too.

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