Dream Man Read online

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you all right?” He reached her in two long strides, his arm sliding around her waist and pulling her into the support of his body.

  “Yes,” she said, not thinking about it, and slipped her hand around the back of his neck.

  He didn’t hesitate, didn’t give her time to think about it. She wasn’t certain she was extending an invitation, but he accepted it before she could decide. This time there was no careful restraint; he set his mouth over hers with open hunger, a hunger so intense and greedy that it stunned her. He caught her chin with his free hand and held her, then moved his tongue deep inside her mouth, touching her own tongue in blatant demand. She sagged against him, both frightened and tempted, and he gathered her in against his hard frame. His erection pushed against her belly. She had never been wanted before like that, so swiftly and violently. She had no experience of men like Dane Hollister, or of how he could make her feel.

  But contact with that potent body was suddenly all she wanted. She put both arms around his neck, moving against him, trying to get closer. He was bruising her with the force of his kisses, and she wanted more. Her loins were tight and achingly empty, growing moist with yearning.

  He put his hand on her breast, and her breath locked in her throat. His thumb rubbed over and around her nipple; at first it was a curious sensation, like a slight pricking of pins, then it suddenly intensified and pure sensation zinged from the nipple to her loins. She moaned aloud, frightened by the way her own body had so swiftly gone beyond her control.

  Dane lifted his head. There was a hard, predatory expression on his face, the faint cruelty of arousal, and his lips were wet from their kisses. His hand remained on her breast, with only the very thin cotton of the robe between them. His breath was coming too fast, and she could feel the hard pounding of his heart against her. “Bed, or pizza?” he asked. His voice was so guttural, she could barely hear him. “If it’s pizza, you’d better say so now.”

  She wanted to say “bed,” she wanted it so much. She had never felt desire before, and the lure of it was almost irresistible. She wanted to forget the reason he was there, the murders she had seen, and simply give herself over to the physical. She had never been able to do that before, and maybe couldn’t now, but for the first time it seemed possible.

  “P-Pizza,” she managed, and closed her eyes as she fought for control. Sick dismay filled her at her own cowardice.

  She could feel him bracing himself, and he took a deep breath. “Pizza it is, then.” Slowly he released her and stepped back. A huge, obvious ridge in his pants told her how difficult it had been for him to stop. Most men wouldn’t even have made the offer.

  He gave her a wry, crooked smile that lit his rough features. “I guess I was going too fast for you, honey. I’m sorry. It’s just that I have a hair trigger where you’re concerned, and I’m not talking about firearms.”

  Marlie stared at him, a lump in her throat and a huge knot in her chest. She felt dizzy with shock and realization. Oh, God. She had been attracted to him from the first, had recognized it and fought it, but with that smile she slipped helplessly over the edge. She had loved, but she had never been in love before, and the power of it made her actually feel faint. Swaying, she put out her hand in search of support, and he was there, solid and vital and so hot that she almost melted. His arm was around her, and her head lay against his chest.

  “Shhh, it’s okay,” he crooned. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she managed to croak, alarmed that he thought he had reminded her of Gleen. He hadn’t; she had been expecting it, but it simply hadn’t happened. She had always assumed that sexual fear would be a constant in her life, and now that it hadn’t materialized, she felt oddly adrift and off balance. “It isn’t you. I was just dizzy for a minute.” Somehow she formed a smile, and it was a real one for all its shakiness. “Maybe your kisses are more potent than you thought.”

  “You think so?” His voice rumbled under her ear. “We’ll have to experiment, won’t we? After the pizza.”

  He walked her into the living room and guided her to the couch. “Just sit; I’ll get the drinks. Do you want a plate?”

  “Well … yes. Of course.”

  He chuckled. “It must be a woman thing.”

  “I prefer a napkin, too,” she said politely. “As opposed to licking my fingers.”

  He winked at her. “I’ll be glad to lick your fingers.”

  She shivered in response and sat, dazed and quiescent, while he puttered around in the kitchen. He seemed to know his way around in her house. How had this happened? She was bewildered by the speed and force of it. In less than twentyfour hours he had taken over; he had spent the night with her, apparently moved in with her, and with a grin made her fall in love with him. He was a one-man SWAT team, overwhelming her defenses without effort.

  He was back in a few minutes with the iced soft drinks, a plate and fork for her, and a couple of napkins. He sat beside her on the sofa, turned on the television to a sports channel, and gave a grunt of satisfaction when a baseball game filled the screen. He served her a slice of pizza, got one for himself, and settled back with obvious enjoyment. Marlie blinked at him. This was what she’d gotten herself into? She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end she simply concentrated on the pizza, sitting curled beside him on the sofa, bemused that she was so content to just be close to him and watch his face as he watched the game.

  Sometimes his size overwhelmed her and sometimes she was comforted by it, but this was the first time she had had the opportunity to simply sit and study him. He was definitely a big man, even bigger than she had thought, at least six two and over two hundred pounds. The feet parked on her coffee table had to be size twelves, or larger. His shoulders were so wide, he took up almost half the couch; his arms were thick and hard, sinewy with ropy layers of muscle. His chest, she knew, was rock-hard, and so was his abdomen. His long legs, stretched out before him, looked like tree trunks.

  His hair was darker than hers, almost black. She eyed the blade of a nose and the brutally carved cheekbones, and wondered if there was any American Indian in his heritage. He had a heavy beard; evidently he had shaved that morning, since there was a fresh-looking nick, but already the black stubble had darkened his jaw.

  He leaned forward to get another slice of pizza, and her gaze fell on his hands. Like everything else about him, they were big, easily twice the size of her own. But they weren’t thick hams; though powerful, they were lean and well shaped, with short, clean nails. She felt safe with those hands on her; not safe from him, but from everything else. She didn’t want to be safe from him. She had lost her heart about fifteen minutes ago, and she was still reeling from the shock of it.

  He was a cop, a man who made his living in violence. He didn’t commit the violence, as a rule, but he had to clean up after it, he was constantly surrounded by it. Close by his right hand was a big automatic pistol. At some point during the day she had become aware of it, and now she realized that it was never far from his side. A shoulder holster was slung across the back of the couch, beside him.

  There was a scar across the back of his right hand. She caught a glimpse of it when he reached for a third slice of pizza, and recognition congealed in her. “That scar on your hand,” she said. “How did you get it? It looks like a knife wound.”

  He turned his hand to look at it, then shrugged and gave his attention back to the television. “It is. A close encounter of the punk kind, when I was still working patrol.”

  “It looks bad.”

  “It wasn’t any fun, but it wasn’t serious. It was a shallow cut, didn’t slice through any tendons. A few stitches and I was as good as new.”

  “Gleen cut me,” she said. She didn’t know why she said it; she hadn’t meant to.

  His head snapped around, all affability gone as if it had never been, and the expression in those hazel eyes was scary. “What?” he asked softly, putting down the