Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

Tell me about the bomb.'
    She frowned, trying to remember. 'There was a photograph pinned to the door of the bus.' She looked around a little helplessly. T had it. I don't think I dropped it.'
    He'd taken it out of her hands and put it on the bureau beside several of his weapons. 'It's safe. Keep going.'
    'It was a picture of Tish and me, but someone had drawn in bullets on our throats and they cut out letters from a magazine, which I personally find hokey. It said to back off the girl. And then I started to open the door, but Jerry called to me and I turned, and then the bus exploded.'
    'You did good, Joley. Tell that to the cop. I'll be in the other room. Try not to mention me if you can help it.' He was already moving fast. The detective was coming up the walkway. A small strobe light flashed, indicating his presence.
    Ilya left her there, trusting that he had reinforced the command enough with his voice that, even in her slightly dazed state, she would obey.
    The hot shower felt good on his tired body. It was difficult to sew up his arm when chunks of flesh appeared to be missing, but he managed, although the stitches weren't nearly as small and precise as the ones he'd done for Joley. He closed the wound as best he could, gave himself a shot of antibiotics and attended the other scrapes. He was exhausted by the time he heard the detective leave.
    Exhausted, he set the alarms for the perimeter of the house and then the house itself. Flicking off lights, he carried Joley to the bedroom. She was very drowsy. He would have to wake her up every hour to make certain she was all right, but for the time being both of them could rest. He removed the bulky robe and just pulled a blanket over her body, grateful that he was tired and needed to sleep. Hopefully he could get through the night without going crazy lying beside her.
    He stretched out, and then turned on his side to curl his body around hers. He thought he could control her movements, at least minimize them, but she was restless and kept batting at the wound on her face. Each time he caught her hands, it jerked the hell out of his arm, sending pain crashing through him. He cursed the fact that drugs didn't work any better on him than they did on her, and finally, to keep her from hurting herself, he used a soft scarf to tie her wrists together and to the headboard.
    Joley murmured a protest, but turned into his body for warmth and eventually slept fitfully. She responded each time he woke her and talked to her, but readily went back to sleep when he left her alone. He drifted off, dreaming of her.
    Chapter Fifteen
    Joley knew she was dreaming again. She'd had so many erotic dreams, her fantasies getting darker, but much more pleasurable each time. As always it was Ilya with her, because only Ilya saw deep inside her and only Ilya mattered to her. She could barely breathe when he was near, her thoughts and body filled with urgent need.
    She was naked, cool air on her bare skin as she lay stretched out on the bed. Ilya stood above her, his features carved and sensual. He was stark naked as well, his body rippling with muscle, his heavy erection already thick and hard. She could see his chiseled body, the defined muscles covered with old scars and new, raw wounds. He looked like a wild Cossack, a warrior, the pagan godlike beauty of his face stamped with lust and sin.
    Her breath caught in her lungs and lay trapped there, so that she heard her own ragged gasps. She wet her lips and tried to move, her legs stirring restlessly as her body reacted to his presence with a rush of heated liquid. She could feel her thighs tingle and her nipples harden under his heavy-lidded stare. Her arms were a bit uncomfortable held over her head so that her breasts thrust upward toward him. It took a moment for her to realize that a soft scarf wrapped around her wrists held her hands tied to the headboard.
    In her dream, the thought of being his captive added to the already smoldering fire in her body. She burned for him, and it was so unfair. He stood above her looking hot and sexy, his hand casually stroking his heavy erection with a near mesmerizing circle, until he was impossibly thick. She couldn't tear her gaze from the sexy sight of him, the pearl of moisture on the broad head. His eyes were filled with lust, his hunger raw and edgy. She loved the look on his face, harshly sensual, his body hot and hard and so ready for her.
    She moved her hips, pushing them toward him in