Lori Foster - Men of Honour - Ready, Set, Jett / When You Dare / Trace of Fever / Savor the Danger / A Perfect Storm / What Chris Wants / Bare It All

When both dogs enthusiastically agreed, Dare said to Molly, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

There was no emotion in his tone, no censure or surprise or … anything. She didn’t know what to make of that.

He strode past her across the kitchen and into the family room to a back door. Frozen, humiliation choking her, Molly stayed right there on the floor. She wasn’t sure she could move.

When he returned, she heard herself say, “Go back to bed, please,” when that was the very last thing she wanted him to do. “I’ll clean this up and—”

“Shush, Molly.”

That was the gentlest tone she’d ever heard from him, and it made even more tears well up and spill over. Molly pressed her fists to her damp eyes, trying to stop the flow of emotion, but all that did was choke her up more.

She was not a weak woman. She was not a woman who sat in the middle of a kitchen floor all but begging for … what? Comfort? Company? She hated it, and at that moment, she hated herself.

Still with her eyes covered, she sensed Dare’s movement near her, heard the clink of glass, then the closing of a cabinet.

Seconds later she knew he was near, though only the heat of his body touched hers.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

His impassive tone left her grateful; any real sympathy from him and she’d be bawling like a baby.

Unable to look at him, she shook her head. “I … I didn’t mean to drop it. The dogs startled me.” But that wasn’t true. “I forgot you had dogs. I just wanted a snack.”

“You wanted not to be alone.” He took her wrists and pulled her hands down, placed them on his shoulders, and then, before she could even assimilate what he planned, he scooped her up into his arms.

She didn’t mean to, but she wrapped her arms tight around him and buried her tear-damp face against his neck. He strode off, maybe taking her back to her room, and she couldn’t find a single word to say.

But it wasn’t her room they entered. It was his.

As he lowered her to sit on the side of his mattress, she had no choice but to stop hiding. Dare pulled up a quilt from the bottom of the bed and wrapped it around her. “You’ll be warmer in a minute.” He rubbed her arms through the quilt to help hurry things along.

She hadn’t realized she was so cold, not until he mentioned it, and then she felt every chill, every shiver that racked her spine.

Furious at herself for the pathetic display, she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I feel so stupid.”

Again he caught her wrists, stilling her movements. “Don’t. There’s no reason.” He went through a doorway in his room and came back with a handful of tissues that he pressed into her hand. “Stay here. I’m going to let the girls back in, and then I’ll be right back.”

When she said nothing, he tipped up her chin, giving her no choice but to meet his direct gaze. His thumb brushed her cheek, smoothing away a tear. “I want to find you sitting right here when I return. Understood?”

The softness of his tone kept it from sounding like an order. Appreciating his calm manner, Molly nodded.

He wasn’t gone long, but Molly used those few minutes to try to gather herself. She blew her nose, wiped away the tears and took several deep breaths.

Hoping for a distraction, she studied Dare’s room, starting with the incredible, multilevel tray ceiling. The room wasn’t square but instead had one wall of windows that extended out in a semicircle. The curtains were open, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Molly saw a million stars shining.

Heavy, masculine furniture included the bed set but also an upholstered couch and chair in a sitting area. An interior door led to his master bath. Curiosity got her off the bed, and she peeked into that sumptuous room. It, too, had a wall of windows that jutted out. They surrounded a large, sunken Jacuzzi tub. The entire bathroom was tiled for a spa-like feel.

Given her father’s wealth, she wasn’t unfamiliar with luxury. But in Dare’s home, he mixed it with a kind of functionality that was both cozy and comfortable. She could spend days just admiring the various rooms in his home, Molly thought as she cleared away the last of the tears, tossed her sodden tissues in a waste can and then headed back to her seat on the king-size bed.

Emotionally spent, she touched the indent in Dare’s pillow, proof of where he’d been before she’d so rudely awakened him.

She heard the dogs’ nails on the floor as they charged across the kitchen tiles, skittered to a turn and entered the room a few steps ahead of Dare.

Dare stopped in the doorway to scrutinize her, but the dogs headed straight for the bed.

When they jumped up onto the mattress, Dare made no move to stop them, leading Molly to believe that the dogs slept wherever they pleased.

She liked that about Dare. He was an orderly man, very particular about cleanliness, but a little dog fur didn’t put him off. There was something very appealing about that down-to-earth quality, especially in a man with his ability.

Tai circled once, then dropped down at the foot of the bed and closed her eyes with a lusty sigh. Sargie tried to get her whole body into Molly’s lap and ended up half sitting on Molly’s thighs. Giving a watery, choked laugh, Molly hugged the dog tight and buried her face in her ruff.

Silence filled the room. The bed dipped when Dare sat beside her, but he said nothing. He didn’t press her, didn’t hold her. He simply sat there beside her, his shoulder touching hers, his nearness calming her and, at the same time, filling her with new, different sensations.

Molly knew she couldn’t continue this way. When she stopped squeezing Sargie, the dog thumped her tail twice and snuffled Molly’s neck with her nose. But when she didn’t get a reaction, she crawled off her lap, over Dare, and flopped down next to Tai.

Awareness of Dare beside her, mostly undressed, expanded by the heartbeat. Molly glanced at him. His muscled, hairy thigh was right next to hers, pinning down the quilt he’d wrapped around her. She licked her lips, inhaled deeply and breathed in his hot masculine scent.

It was already familiar, comforting, enticing.

Her gaze skimmed up to his throat, his shoulders. He had the most remarkable chest, wide, strong, sculpted with obvious strength. Even relaxed, his abs remained defined. And a very sexy trail of dark brown hair led from his navel down into his snug boxers.

Beneath the soft cotton material she saw the bulge of his sex.

“Want me to lose the boxers for you?”

She jerked her gaze up to his. His slow smile showed more satisfaction than humor.

For Molly, one thought overshadowed the rest. “This should be awkward, but it’s not.”

“No.”

“I mean, the crying and being stupid and weak is awkward, but being here with you is just … nice.”

The smile faded, and his eyes warmed. “You feel better now?”

“Yes.” And she did. That thrumming panic was no longer a part of her, leaving her at a loss. “I don’t know what happened. I swear I felt fine earlier today.”

“I know.” He put a hand on her thigh, over the quilt. “But trust me, that sense of well-being is ephemeral at best. After your ordeal, you can’t expect it to last. Not this soon. You need to cut yourself some slack. We’ll get there eventually, I promise.”

We? Did he mean that?

No, how could he? Dare barely knew her, and what he did know was shaded by extreme circumstance, not the routine, day-in-and-day-out parts of her life; not the mundane parts that made up the real her.

All in all, her mostly solitary life of research and writing equated to a very boring existence. Her life revolved around her desk, in her apartment, in a quiet town in Ohio.