Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 Karen Whiddon (best fiction books to read TXT) 📖

They made it inside with him leaning heavily on her. She helped him to the couch, where he lowered himself with a grunt. Bridget came running up, sniffing his legs, though she didn’t jump up on the couch near him.

“Where are you hurt?” Carly asked. “Maybe you should have let them take you to the hospital for tests.”

Shaking his head, he eyed her. “No way am I leaving you alone after someone just tried to kill us. No way in hell.”

Touched, she wanted to hug him but knew better. “Us? Do you think they targeted your rental car hoping I’d get in it with you?”

“No.” He grimaced. “Both Chicago PD and the FBI believe I was the target this time. They can’t rule out it was somehow tied to the video camera, and the fact that it happened in front of your house is suspicious to me, but they feel strongly you would have just been collateral damage.”

“Collateral damage,” she repeated. The coldness of the term made her shiver. “But why, Micha? Why would anyone want you dead?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.”

“It’s just too much of a coincidence,” she said. “I’ve been feeling as if someone’s been watching me for weeks, which is even more frightening since someone murdered my father and uncle. You magically reappear, back from the dead.” She sighed. “After that, someone puts a video camera on my kitchen window, I learn there’s been another murder with a similar MO to my father’s, and then someone blows up the car you and I were about to get into. Does that about cover it?”

“Come here.” He patted the couch next to him. “We’re alive, and unhurt for the most part. Sit. Try to relax. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

But she felt too jumpy to just sit. Restless and conflicted, an almost sexual energy buzzed through her. She had no idea how to deal with herself except to try to keep busy as a distraction.

Meanwhile, Micha watched her, almost as if he knew the way she felt. She eyed him back, wondering how badly he’d been hurt. Since she needed some way to occupy herself, checking him out would be a start.

“Let me take a look at you,” she ordered. “Let’s get your shirt off.”

This made him laugh, though he immediately winced in pain. “This definitely isn’t how I pictured you asking me to take off my clothes.”

“Off with it.” She refused to rise to his baiting. “I’m sure the EMTs checked you out thoroughly, but I want to see for myself. I take it you don’t have any broken bones?”

“No, ma’am,” he drawled, struggling to get his torn T-shirt off.

Moving carefully, she helped him, pretending her fingers weren’t trembling. Once the shirt came off, she gasped at the huge, angry purple bruise on his shoulder. He had another, even larger one lower on his rib cage. There were a few scratches and scrapes, but overall it didn’t appear he’d been seriously injured.

Thank goodness. But her relief did nothing to ease her tension. She needed something else. She needed...him.

Impulsively, she placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she said.

“Me, too.” His gaze had darkened, but he kept still, clearly letting her make her own choice.

“Thank you for protecting me.” She kissed him again. A low thrum of desire had settled low in her belly. They’d survived a horrible attack—together—and she felt an almost overwhelming need to reaffirm their survival.

“How much do you hurt?” she asked softly, wanting to be sure.

Turning his head, he met her mouth with his own. “Not that badly,” he murmured, kissing her deeply.

She kept her gaze on him as she removed her torn clothing, piece by piece, matter-of-factly with no attempt to shield herself from his heated gaze. Though he struggled, he watched her while he did the same, leaving on only his boxers. She straddled him, closing her eyes as she allowed the desire coursing through her veins to overtake her.

Pushing down his boxers, she freed him, allowing herself to marvel at the sheer force of his erection before she lowered herself over him, taking him deep inside her.

He made a sound, arching his back and driving himself into her. Laughing and wild, she pushed him down, pushing away her inhibitions, her worries and fears, everything but her desire for him.

Letting go. And holding on. As her climax slammed into her, she called his name. An instant later, he joined her. It wasn’t until she’d collapsed on top of him that she started to cry.

He held her while she let the tears fall, asking no questions, saying nothing. She wasn’t sure exactly of the reason for the waterworks, but her life had changed with her father’s and uncle’s murders and had continued to change up until this very moment.

Finally, she’d cried herself out. Sniffing, she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and sat back. “Sorry about that,” she said.

“No need to apologize.” Reaching up, he used his fingers to tuck a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. “That was intense. I get it.”

“Intense.” She tested out the word. Not terrifying, or even frightening, but intense. “You’re right,” she said. “It was. All of it.”

“I didn’t use protection,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers. “But I can assure you I haven’t been with anyone else and I was tested for everything before I left the hospital.”

She nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was bring up another man right now. “I’ve made sure I was always protected, as well,” she said, hoping that would suffice. “And I take birth control pills, too.”

Before he could respond, she got up and grabbed her discarded clothing, hurrying to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

Inside, she eyed her wild-haired, flushed self in the mirror, refusing to allow even the tiniest bit of regret. She stepped into the shower, rinsing herself off.

“Mind if I join you?” Micha’s voice, just outside the