Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

night.”

    “We only slept together a couple of times,” she pointed out. “You can’t possibly miss me like that.”

    “I wake up in the middle of the night reaching for you. I miss your laugh and that stubborn, mulish look you get on your face right before you do something that turns me on. I miss all of it, cher , and I want it back. How do I get it back?”

    He looked up at her, his eyes midnight black and her heart lurched. How did he do that?
    Just take over her mind, fog it, and make her body hot and restless when he wasn’t doing anything but sitting there? Flame wrapped her arms around her waist. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “There’s this huge gap between us and I can’t cross it.”

    “You stay where you are. I’ll come to you.”

    Flame held up her hand, panic written clearly on her face. “Stay there.”

    “Why, cher . I do believe you’re afraid of being close to me. You’ve been missing me, haven’t you?”

    “Maybe a little,” she conceded.

    “I think more than a little.” He crooked his finger at her. “Come here where I can touch you. I don’ believe you’re wearing a bra under that shirt.”

    She looked down and saw her nipples pushing at the thin material. “Well stop looking.”

    “I love to look at you.”

    She took a deep breath. “My hair fell out.” She put her hand defensively on the cap.

    He reached out and tugged on her sweats until she was standing between his legs. His voice lowered until there was almost a seductive note in it. “Take off the cap. Let me see.”

    “I’m not going to let you see my bald head. Sheesh.” His voice alone could send butterflies fluttering through her stomach. He was just so— bad . He looked at her with his dark eyes and his sinful mouth and she couldn’t help the wicked thoughts sizzling through her mind. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m not taking off the cap. Ever .”

    He tilted his head, his hand skimming the ribbon of bare skin between her top and sweats. “Aw, cher . There’s no need to be like that. I’ve been fantasizing for the last few weeks about you being all sexy with no hair.” His voice dropped another octave. “When you lose all your hair, do you lose all of it? All over your body?” He dragged out the last word, making it sound erotic somehow.

    She blushed. She never blushed, but he was looking at her as if he might eat her like an ice cream cone. His tongue actually licked his bottom lip as if in anticipation. Heat flooded her body. “You’re freakin’ nuts, Raoul.”

    His fingers caressed her skin, slid down her hip to her thigh to massage her leg. “Are you bald everywhere , sugah?”

    His whisper skimmed over her skin, featherlight, like warm breath. She could feel it deep inside her where need pooled. She swallowed a protest. His hand found its way around to her bottom, kneading through her cotton sweats. He shifted in the chair, calling attention to the huge bulge at the junction of his legs.

    “You cannot be turned on, Raoul. You can’t be.”

    He took her hand and guided it to the front of his jeans. “I beg to differ, this here is a hell of a hard-on, cher , if I do say so myself.”

    She should have snatched her hand away, it was the only safe thing to do, but he was pressing it over the long thick bulge, and despite herself she let her palm rub back and forth. He closed his eyes and drew in his breath, pleasure smoothing away the lines etched so deep—lines that hadn’t been there before he’d brought her to the compound.

    She had to do something to break his spell, otherwise she was going to forget what she looked like and jump him. “Before you get too comfortable there, Cajun man. I seem to recall telling you what I was going to do to you if my hair fell out.”

    He brought her hand to his mouth before leaning down to remove his boots.

    Flame stepped back, one hand to her throat as he peeled off his jeans without even a blush. He was hard and hot and very erect. He grinned at her, unashamed of his obvious need. “I brought the knife, cher . It isn’t rusty. but it’ll do.” His hands went to his shirt buttons, slowly opening the shirt.

    Flame shook her head. “No way. I meant it, Raoul. No freakin’ way.”

    “Just let me see,” he coaxed. “I had more than one fantasy about shavin’ you all clean and soft so you feel every lick of my tongue.”

    The way he said it, the way he looked, sent shivers down her spine. In spite of