He nodded. “I want to get my bearings and talk some more to Remy as well as some of the others in the lair. But”—he planted another kiss on her mouth—“not so early this time.”

“I guess you do need to sleep in.”

“I wasn’t intending to sleep,” he admitted.

Saria shook her head, and left him. The tub was deep and wide. He made a mental note to himself that it was large enough for two. One thing about Pauline’s inn, it had plenty of hot water and he sank gratefully into the deep tub. Lacerations stung, but the water was soothing and he closed his eyes and let himself drift.

He was exhausted. It had been a long while since he’d had to fight leopards, and for a test of whether his leg would hold up or not, this had been a baptism by fire. He laughed softly to himself. His doctor had been very specific. Shift—but take his time. Go slowly. Feel the leg out. Make certain it held up before using it strenuously. Somehow he didn’t think he was following the doctor’s orders too closely. Yeah. He was fine. His leopard was fine. The world was right again—well, almost. When he considered there was a psycho serial killer leopard on the loose and an entire out-of-control lair to deal with—maybe things weren’t quite so right. But for now, for tonight, knowing Saria would lie beside him, he’d take whatever peace he could and be damned happy about it.

“Are you plannin’ on stayin’ in the bath all night?”

Saria’s soft voice pulled him out of his revelry. He’d drifted off, floating in hot water that had gone warm on him. He ducked his head under the water to rinse out his hair and came up looking for her. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a short tank top and small pair of boy shorts that clung to her hips and buttocks lovingly.

“You sleeping in that?”

She tugged at the hem of the shirt that didn’t quite cover her belly. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I’ll just have to take it off you in a couple of hours.”

“You want me to go to bed with you naked?”

He stood up, stark naked himself, allowing the water to pour off of his body. “Yes. I want to feel your skin against my skin.”

Saria didn’t avert her eyes. She reached for a towel and instead of handing it to him, when he stepped from the tub, she began to dry him off, her hands gentle as she skimmed the soft material over the lacerations on his chest and belly. When she lingered, he pretended not to notice, standing patiently, waiting for her to claim his body in her own way.

She seemed fascinated and not at all shy. Nervous, yes, but not shy. She stroked the towel down his back and over his buttocks, removing the water drops as she continued down his legs.

“You’re really quite beautiful,” she said. “Very symmetrical.”

He was struck by the tone of her voice. It was factual, observant, almost scientific. He found himself smiling. “Symmetrical?”

She touched his muscles. “Each side is amazingly perfect when the human body isn’t really that way at all.”

“You do know I’m real, don’t you?” He tried not to laugh.

“You’d be perfect to photograph, Drake.”

“It isn’t going to happen, Saria.” He looked down at the expression on her upturned face and he did laugh. Dragging the towel from her hands, he tossed it aside, wrapped his arms around her and walked her backward into the bedroom. “No matter how much you pout, how cute you are, no matter if you’re the sexiest woman alive, the answer is no.”

“Consider that you should do it for art. For science.”

He lifted her easily and tossed her on the bed. “Absolutely, unequivocally, no.” He plunged the room into darkness.

“We’ll see. You have to open the French doors.”

“Are you too warm? And the answer will always be no.”

“I have to sleep with the windows or door open or I can’t breathe.”

He opened the double doors. The night breeze slid into the room and Saria smiled at him. He couldn’t help just standing there by the door admiring her with the moonlight spilling into the room. Her hair was tousled, her skin gleaming like porcelain and her body soft and curvy and inviting.

She patted the bed next to her. “Come and lie down.”

“You don’t have a camera hidden somewhere, do you?” He put suspicion in his voice.

“I might,” she teased.

“I’ll have to search you.” She was studying him just as thoroughly as he was looking at her. He liked the feel of her gaze on him. He might be exhausted and hurting, but she made him feel more alive and exhilarated than he’d ever felt in his life.

He approached the bed slowly, watching her eyes, watching the heat flare there. Her eyes darkened, but the amber flecks grew brighter, becoming like tiny pieces of gold, now molten and spreading through the dark chocolate. His groin tightened and he knelt over her, caching her ankles in his hands and dragging her body down to him.

She moistened her lips, but her dark gaze never left his. His palm slid up the curve of her leg, tracing her form. Her long lashes swept down and then up, so that she watched him through half-closed eyes. He stroked his hands up her legs and over her hips, hooking her thin boy shorts and slowly lowering them from her body, all the while holding her gaze. The gold spread through the irises of her eyes until the color formed perfect circles. He read fear there, but the desire outweighed the fear.

He stretched out beside her, one hand splayed on her stomach, feeling her muscles bunch beneath his palm. She trembled, her eyes going wide, but she didn’t try to pull away from him. He wanted her with every cell in his body. He brushed a kiss along her temple, down to the corner of her eye and along her cheek. He heard her breath turn a little ragged and he drew lazy circles on her bare skin just under her breasts as he nudged her top up a little.