Whisper of Revenge (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 4) by Janice Kay Johnson Page B

he had become accustomed
to feeling alone, even when he still had family.
    The man he was had been formed a long time ago.
    “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”  Twilight hid her
expression.  “You let me understand you a little better.  It felt…sort of
unbalanced before.  You’re not easy to get to know.”
    “I often go days at a time without talking to anyone,” he
admitted.
    Her head turned his way.  “Except that you’ve been stopping
by to at least say, ‘My usual coffee’ and ‘Thank you’ four or five days a
week.”  Humor and something more poignant in her voice kept him from being
bothered that he had been so obvious.
    Without thinking, he reached for her hand.
    Far too quickly, he was pulling into her driveway, where he
had to let go of her hand to set the brake and turn off the engine.  In the
resulting complete silence, Elias didn’t move.  Neither did Hannah.
    Finally he said, “Can I give your babysitter a lift home?”
    “No, Ian is next door with Edna.  Um, Mrs. Stanavitch.  Do
you know her?  She saves my life on a regular basis.  Right now, she’s my puppy
sitter.”
    “Name’s not familiar.”  Her first name suggested an older
woman.  “I’ll walk you over.”
    “You don’t have to—”
    “I do.”  There were streetlights on this block and the
neighbor’s porchlight cast a glow, but Hannah hadn’t thought to leave her own
lights on.  No way in hell he was letting her and Ian walk into a dark house
alone.  Something could even be waiting for her on the front porch.
    “Then…thank you,” she said quietly.
    Still he didn’t reach for his seatbelt release or his door
handle.  “Hannah?”
    She turned to him, her face shadowed.  He shouldn’t do this,
wouldn’t have in daylight, but the fall of night gave them some privacy.  Now
he did push the release for his seatbelt and then the one for hers.  When he reached
for her, she came to him with a small sound his brain chose to interpret as
need.
    He did have the restraint to start with a gentle kiss
instead of the deep, devouring one he craved.  He tasted her, tugged on her
lower lip, played with her mouth, while he cupped her jaw and stroked her
cheek.  Her skin was incredibly soft, the fine texture almost childlike.
    And then she invited him in.  Her tongue touched his shyly
before he broke, groaning.  He slid his hand under her cascade of hair to grip
the back of her head, adjusting the angle until their mouths found a perfect
fit.  His other hand landed somewhere around her waist, supple and more giving
than he was used to with the kind of woman he’d chosen before.  He couldn’t
help flexing his fingers, reveling in Hannah’s very womanly body.  He
desperately wanted to slide that hand upward, feel the weight of her breast—
    Instead, he grabbed for his tattered self-control, barely
catching hold.  He took his time ending the kiss, finally groaning as he rested
his forehead against Hannah’s.
    “That…wasn’t as patient as I intended,” he murmured.
    Somehow he felt her lips curve.  “Good.”
    Surprised into a brief laugh, he was able to take his hand
from her waist.  The other hand defied him, his fingers sifting through her
hair – thick, yes, but not coarse, rather like heavy satin.  Even in the dark
he thought of the colors he’d use to paint that hair.  Cadmium orange as a
base, of course, but also gold ochre, raw sienna, a hint of burnt sienna.  The
way the light caught it – that was the most challenging part.  Reluctantly, he
stroked her nape and finally withdrew his hand.
    That was when he realized she was gripping his shirt in two
fists.  He liked being held that way.  He’d like her hands spread on his bare
chest even better, but all else aside, this was too soon.  He couldn’t ask.
    Her “Oh!” was more of a squeak.  She let him go.  “I’ve
probably wadded your shirt like a dishrag.  I’m so sorry!”
    “I’m not.”
    He heard her breathing, fast