Carly Phillips - Simply Sinful

He tried the doorknob and it turned. At least she hadn’t locked herself inside. He opened it a sliver. “You okay in there?”

“Not really.” Her voice sounded weak.

Kane didn’t wait for permission. He barged inside. The bathroom was compact and steam floated around him. The scent of lemons hovered in the air. He ripped aside the shower curtain to find Kayla sitting on the floor of the porcelain tub, her head between her legs.

He slammed his fist against the large faucet and shut the water that had been pelting her body. “Can you lift your head?”

“Not by myself,” she said, the words muffled.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” He stepped barefoot into the wet tub, braced his hands beneath her arms and pulled her into a standing position.

“Taking a shower.”

“I noticed.” Droplets of water clung to her bare skin. He had a sudden desire to lick them off one by one. Instead he pushed her wet hair off her forehead so he could look into her eyes. He never got the chance.

She collapsed, unable to stand on her own. He swore and swung her into his arms, grabbing a towel before making his way back to the bedroom. Her wet skin soaked through the T-shirt and jeans he’d kept on the night before-more as a physical barrier to temptation than for modesty’s sake. But barriers meant little when he had Kayla naked and needy in his arms. She clung to him, her head nestled on his shoulder and her wet body snug against him for warmth.

She trusted him. Impossible, he thought. He’d given her no reason. She needed someone and he was available. “You should get dressed.” He placed her on the bed and wrapped a towel around her shaking shoulders.

“I just wanted a shower, but…” Her teeth began to chatter.

“Too much too soon. Especially on an empty stomach.” He rummaged through her drawers again and pushed the most flimsy things aside. She’d need help, and he’d be wrapping a bra around her full breasts. His hands would be too close, his mouth too tempted. He settled on plain white, no frills, things that covered as much as possible. Then he picked a shirt, a man’s football jersey. He didn’t dwell on where she got it. At least it was large enough to keep him from staring. He was in too deep already.

“Here.” He walked back to the bed. She still sat huddled in a tight ball. He worked the shirt over her head. “Raise your arms.” She complied and her breasts lifted higher, her darkened nipples inches from his face.

“To serve and protect,” he muttered as a reminder.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop mumbling. This is embarrassing enough already.” He ditched the bra. Better to get this over with.

She wiggled a bit and the shirt fell around her generous hips.

“Think you can handle these?” He dangled a pair of briefs from his fingertips.

“Yes.” She blushed scarlet. At least her coloring looked better than before. He turned to give her some privacy. A couple of deep breaths and he had himself under control.

“Thank you, Kane.”

He turned. “No problem.”

She lay propped back against the pillows. Soft hair fell around her face. A yearning gripped his insides hard.

“The steam made me weak,” she said.

“You don’t get out of that bed without my permission.” Finding her on the tub floor had taken years off his life.

A weary frown crossed her lips. “I need sleep.”

“First, you need to eat.”

“Looking out for me, catching me when I fall, cooking my meals…Careful, McDermott, or I might think you care for more than your case.”

He caught the teasing in her voice. “Fat chance.”

She met his gaze. “Same with me following orders. I’m not some flunky you can boss around.”

The words were stronger than her voice, but he accepted her warning. Once she felt better, Kane would have his hands full keeping her in line and out of harm’s way. “What are you, Ms. Luck?”

“Your equal and I suggest you remember that.”

His respect for her rose once more. She’d taken a beating, but she kept pulling herself up. Kayla was a fighter. He liked that about her. She could handle herself, but this wasn’t an ordinary situation. When she felt stronger, he’d question her about her aunt and uncle’s dealings.

Meanwhile, he wasn’t about to lighten the severity of her situation. “You take care of yourself or I’ll cuff you to the bed.” He gestured to the wrought-iron headboard behind her pillows.

She grinned. “First whipped cream, now bondage. Are you kinky, Detective?”

“Keep that up and you’ll find out.” The sudden banter and teasing caught him by surprise. So did the vision of her naked, shackled to the bed, eager to play sexual give-and-take.

Her eyes darkened. He wondered if she was considering the possibilities, then reminded himself he’d had his one night. He refused to take another.

Kane rose. Her fingers around his wrist stopped his escape. Warmth seeped into the places she touched.

“Running away?” she asked.

“Getting you food.” Before he drew her down onto the mattress and gave in to baser, misplaced desires. Before he let himself drown in all she had to give.

She released her grip and struggled to a sitting position. “Okay.”

He raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You gave in.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I know what’s good for me.” She grinned. “Besides, we already established I’m easy.”

KANE DISAPPEAREDinto the hall. Kayla leaned back against the pillows and groaned. Sparring with him had sapped what little strength she had left. The dizziness was better, but Kane was right-she needed to eat. Food would give her the energy to get out of this bed, deal with her aunt and uncle’s legacy, and confront Kane, all on her terms.

Kane. What did he want from her? And what did she want from the tough cop?

“Lunch.” He saved her from having to answer.

Standing in the doorway, he was the epitome of every fantasy she’d never allowed herself to have. A strong, capable, caring, sexy man…concerned about her.

She glanced at the mug in his hands, pushing herself to a sitting position. “Vegetable?”

“Was there another kind?” he asked wryly. He handed her the white ceramic cup. The steaming mug warmed her hands. She inhaled and the aroma of beef stock and vegetables drifted upward. Her stomach grumbled aloud. He chuckled.

Refusing to be embarrassed, she took a grateful sip before meeting his amused gaze. “Canned soup at its finest.”

Laugh lines formed in attractive crinkles around his eyes. “It’s the closest thing to homemade you’ll get from me. Come on. Drink up.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Do you take such good care of all your assignments, Detective?”

His hand went to her cheek. She felt his touch shoot straight to her heart. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ms. Luck.”

The jangling of the phone jarred them. She darted a glance at the phone. “Catherine thinks she needs to protect me from you.”

“I already reassured her earlier, but apparently she needs proof. Besides, she’s right.” His dark gaze met hers, his barely readable expression revealing hidden knowledge and a deep yearning need. Her stomach twisted again but hunger wasn’t the cause.

The phone rang once more, breaking the connection. “Better let Catherine know you’re okay or she’ll be showing up on your doorstep.” He grabbed the cup and placed it on the nightstand before walking toward the door.

She picked up the phone. “I’m fine,” she said without preamble.

“You won’t be if I don’t get my take and I want the books.”

She gripped the receiver hard. “Who is this?”