Unbelievable by Lori Foster Page B

water.
    His body vibrated with a deep groan—a response in anticipation to her touch. Her fingertips bumped against his hard thigh, then shyly slid higher to the smoother skin of his hip. His thighs parted the slightest bit; her hand moved to the inside of his knee.
    He knew he was working on a hair trigger. It was no longer a matter of exquisite torture—he had lost his control.
    Sebastian jerked away, unwilling to embarrass her, unwilling to be pushed so far over the edge. It was insanity the way she affected him. This wasn’t the time or place. He couldn’t rush things, not until Brandi was ready to be with him every step of the way. Whatever game she wanted to play, she’d have to play it when he was in better control.
    “I thought…”
    Her voice quavered, and his irritation with himself grew. “Forget it,” he rumbled, “I’m sorry, but the game is over.”
    He heard a splash and turned just in time to catch Brandi’s arm. She crouched on the edge of the Jacuzzi, her face white, her eyes wide, almost wild. “Let me go.”
    Startled by her vehemence, by the sound of tears in her voice, he released her. “Brandi?”
    Just like that, she was gone, dashing into the house and leaving the patio door open. Though his body was still tight, his lust had died, banished by the sight of her stricken face. Sebastian frowned, then cursed viciously. The game had been hers, so why was she acting so upset?
    It was past time they talked, understood each other. He needed to know what was going on, and he needed to know tonight.
    He stepped out of the Jacuzzi and stripped off his sodden briefs, wringing them out and tossing them over the back of a chair before putting the cover back on the Jacuzzi. He found a towel and wrapped it around his hips. When he went into the cabin, silence greeted him. Brandi’s door was shut. He started to knock on it, to demand she talk with him, let him explain, but he decided it might be more prudent to face her with pants on and his hormones in check. This turbulent anger was almost as bad as the lust, and he needed the iron control he used on the job, the alert consciousness of every detail that made him so successful at providing personal protection.
    By the time he felt he had some measure of control and had dressed again, it was late. He tapped on Brandi’s door. When he didn’t get any immediate reply, he silently turned the knob and peeked inside.
    Brandi lay curled on her side like a small child, herhands tucked beneath her left cheek, the blankets pulled over her shoulders. She’d left on the bedside lamp.
    Darkness. She really didn’t like the darkness. He filed away that small bit of information. To the economical man, it was a waste of money to burn a lamp all night long. But this time, his concern for her fear overwhelmed the worry of expense. He didn’t like that she had any fears at all. What he disliked most, though, was that, on some level, she seemed to fear him.
    Closing the door, he decided to put off their talk for the morning. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind, so he removed his shirt, shoes and socks, then went and settled himself on the small sofa. He used the remote to turn the television on low and found an all-night movie station.
    Hours passed, and he was almost asleep, the movie forgotten, when a small, choked scream awoke him. He was on his feet in an instant, his heart pumping adrenaline. But before he could fully react, Brandi’s bedroom door flew open. She took one look at him, let out a low pain-filled moan, and came running into his arms.
     
    B EING HELD TIGHT , feeling the solid thumping of his heart, his warm firm flesh, made her feel a little more secure. But the dream had been so horrible, especially since she hadn’t suffered through it in so long. She’d prayed the nightmare was gone for good, but it hadn’t taken much to revive it. With a sense of despair, she accepted that the horror would never truly be gone—just as she would never