Propositioned?. Kristin GabrielЧитать онлайн книгу.
you go,” he whispered, even as his eyelids drooped. His arm tightened around her, pulling her even closer.
Sarah relaxed against him, all her nerve endings still thrumming. The warmth of his large body enveloped her like a cocoon. She closed her eyes for a moment, still caught up in the fantasy, one she knew had to end very soon. But not yet.
Not quite yet.
SARAH AWOKE SLOWLY the next morning, the rays of the morning sun streaming through the open drapes. She winced at the brightness, yawned lazily, then suddenly she realized that she was naked beneath the silk sheets.
Naked in Michael Wolff’s arms.
Panic hit her like a jolt of caffeine. She’d fallen asleep last night. She hadn’t returned the necklace to the safe. She was in big trouble.
Her body tensed as she listened to the sound of Michael’s deep, even breathing. At least he was still asleep. She might still have a chance to make her escape before he awoke.
Carefully extricating herself from his arms, she slipped soundlessly out of the big round bed. How could she have fallen asleep last night? She remembered lying in his embrace, waiting for him to drift off. The warmth of his naked body pressed against her. The sated afterglow of her own. The dreamy visions of more nights together.
A dream that could never come true.
Instead, she’d created her own nightmare. She’d proved beyond all doubt that she wasn’t cut out for a life of crime—as if sleeping with her family’s archenemy hadn’t already done that.
But Sarah couldn’t let herself think about that now. She had to get dressed, get the necklace back in the safe, then get the hell out of there.
She frantically searched for the clothes he’d stripped off of her the night before. All she could find were her panties, bra, boots and the cloak. Her gloves, blouse and skirt had to still be in the bed with him.
Not willing to take the risk of waking him, she hastily pulled on her bra and panties, then tied the wrinkled red cloak around her neck. She placed her boots in the picnic basket, deciding not to put them on until she was out of the house. Her exit needed to be as silent as possible.
Her basket still sat directly beneath the safe. Thankfully, Michael hadn’t noticed it there last night or he might have gotten suspicious. He might have questioned her in his bed instead of making love to her there.
Memories of the night before washed over her, warming her cheeks. In the light of day, making love to Michael Wolff seemed like a huge mistake. But she’d worry about that later. After she was out of his house.
Padding silently to the safe, she slowly opened the panel. The slight squeal made her wince. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she didn’t see any movement from the bed, though the canopy drapes obscured her vision of Michael. She hoped he was a deep sleeper.
Fifty-four. Telling herself not to rush it, Sarah turned the dial on the safe, her fingers sensing the slight give in the tension of the dial when she reached the first number of the combination.
Thirteen. She reversed the direction of the dial, hearing her own rapid heartbeat in her ears.
Sixty-one. She heard the satisfying click as she reached the last number. Almost there.
Sarah slowly swung open the heavy steel door of the safe, thankful it didn’t squeak. Then she bent down and reached inside her basket for the worn velvet jewelry case, a case she hoped to never lay eyes on again.
Sarah carefully set the velvet case deep inside the safe, releasing a deep breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
Then Michael’s cold, harsh voice turned her blood to ice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
4
MICHAEL COULDN’T BELIEVE his eyes. He blinked, certain he must be dreaming—or in the midst of some horrific nightmare. Red was standing there with her hand inside his safe.
He catapulted out of the bed, flinging the heavy canopy drapes back behind him. He watched her beautiful green eyes drop down his body and realized too late that he was still naked.
But he was too furious to care.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said, barely able to keep his voice below a roar.
She still wore the red mask, along with the red cloak, though the hood was down. Her silky dark hair spilled wildly over her shoulders.
He remembered the sensation of that hair on his skin last night when she’d explored his body with her mouth. Sweet torture.
Michael hastily turned around and grabbed his bulky terry cloth robe off the hook near the bed, pulling it on before she could see the effect the sensual memory had on him.
When he faced her again, her green eyes met his through the mask and he saw her swallow.
“I…I…”
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