Explosive (The Black Opals) by Tori St. Claire Page B

tensed, slowly turned back to the window. Squinting, he scoured the deep shadows that loomed across the lawn.
    He was certain he’d seen something move.
    Glancing over his shoulder, he checked to insure Alyssa and Jayce were too occupied to notice him, and then moved to the back door. Annoyance flicked down his spine. He’d had about enough of this. Enough of the threats, enough of the scare tactics.
    Brice unlocked the door and stepped outside, not bothering to flip on the floodlight. He took care to make sure the screen didn’t clang behind him, then crossed the patio, head cocked, examining the trees.
    From the far corner of the lawn, the chain link fence rattled.
    Son of a bitch! The assholes were back. He’d heard them out here last night. And he knew why they were here. If Toledo didn’t show up to pick up his goddamned file, Brice was so out of this deal.
    He clenched a fist, knowing it was futile to chase after the noise. Whoever had been here was long gone. They’d be back—no question about that.
    Which made it that much more of a damn good thing Jayce had shown up when he did. Brice no longer trusted his own safety, nor the word of the man he’d spoken with on the phone. And if something happened to him, Jayce could keep Alyssa safe. Jayce would give his life to protect her, Brice had no doubt.
    “Where the fuck are you?” he murmured under his breath, wishing for all his worth, that he’d never agreed to cooperate with the man named Toledo, who evidently had no past.
    Three more days. Brice drew in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Three days, and if things went as planned, this would be over before Alyssa became part of it. She didn’t need to be involved. He’d told Toledo that from the start.
    * * *
    Jayce stared after Alyssa for a good five full minutes after she excused herself from the table and returned to the kitchen. The sound of running water and clattering dishes filled his ears. Dinner had been hell. Not to mention McTavish’s awkward departure. But Alyssa had walked into the room, dressed only in that damnably short satin robe, and he’d been deaf and blind to everything but her.
    Sitting across from her, watching the way the satin gaped when she bent over her plate, glimpsing tidbit after tidbit of her full, soft breasts… She’d dropped her game somewhere between filling their plates and taking her first bite. What came after was all Alyssa, all natural, and captivating beyond comprehension.
    He wanted her like fire wanted oxygen.
    It was the sharing her part that gave him trouble. If she had been any other woman, he’d have already fucked her, McTavish or no McTavish. But she wasn’t, and he wanted her all to himself.
    Annoyed by his ridiculous hesitation, Jayce shoved away from the table and turned to take his plate to the kitchen. Damn it all, he was acting like a stupid school boy. It shouldn’t make a difference. Sex was sex. Alyssa had extended the invitation to pleasure, not asked him to settle into a ménage á marriage .
    Jayce came to a halt in the doorway as his gaze locked onto her. Standing at the sink, the most domestic way he could have ever pictured her, she scrubbed at a pot. For an instant, his mind flashed back to the dreams they’d created, the plans they’d made. Alyssa and he, a home, a family.
    Only he’d never quite expected her to look so goddamn enticing while standing in front of the sink.
    His gaze traversed down the length of her spine, over the perfect rise of her ass, down muscular legs that threatened to steal the air from his lungs. Behind the confines of his jeans, his half-swollen cock stiffened more. Under that captivating, dark blue satin, she was naked. He didn’t need to pull on the belt to know; the lack of a line where her thong would fit made it perfectly obvious.
    Naked. She’d been aroused at dinner. Aroused. Wet.
    His entire body tightened as he fought back the fierce pull of desire. No, he was not giving in. Not until Alyssa