Protector, Lover...Husband?: In the Dark / Sure Bet / Deadly Exposure

She shrugged and stared at him. Studied him. As if she could find what she was looking for if she just kept at it long enough.

“All you really all right?” he asked her.

“I’m fine. But you really look like hell.”

“I need a shower, too. I took Zach and Ally out on the Icarus. Then I took her around to the dry dock on the Gulf side and had to get back here.”

“You didn’t have to get back here,” she corrected him. “You don’t work here.”

“I knew you’d be staying with your dolphins, and I wasn’t about to leave you here alone with…Alone.”

She nodded. Suddenly, to his surprise, she walked up to him, put her arms around him and pressed against him. Instinctively, he embraced her, smoothing back her wet hair. “What is it?” he asked, at a loss.

“I do know you, don’t I?” she whispered.

“Better than anyone else,” he said. “Alex, what is this?”

She pulled away slightly, a strange smile on her lips. “You’re not good husband material, you know.”

That hurt. “You were the best wife any man could have,” he told her.

“You do love me, in your way, don’t you?”

“In my way?” he said, finding it his turn to seek an explanation in her eyes. “In every way,” he said, passion reverberating in his tone, his words vehement. “I swear, I never stopped loving you, Alex. Never. I would die for you in a heartbeat.”

She slipped from his arms. “I have to shower,” she murmured. “Get a few things together.”

She walked into the bedroom. Five minutes later, he couldn’t stand it anymore and followed.

The water was streaming down on her. Here, as in the other bath, the glass doors were clear. He should give her space, so that she wouldn’t decide to send him away. Now, when he needed so desperately to be with her.

You look like hell, she had told him.

Hell yes. Because I found your disappearing body, and it is Alicia Farr, and, oh God, what the sea can do to human flesh…

There was no way he would tell her about his discovery now. Not until the storm had abated and the sheriff had come. They were all alone here now, at the mercy of the storm. And maybe of a murderer.

Her head was cast back as she rinsed shampoo from her hair. Back arched, limbs long, torso compelling in its clean-lined arc. He felt the sudden shudder of his heart and the iron tug on his muscles.

Taking a step forward, he opened the glass door. She looked at him and waited.

“I told you, I need to shower, too.”

“There is another shower.”

“But you’re not in it.”

He was startled to see her smile. Then her smile faded and a little shudder rippled through her. She backed up, inviting him in. He stripped in seconds and followed her.

“Shampoo?” she offered.

“That would be good.”

“On your head?” she asked.

“Where else?”

“Should I show you?”

Her tone was absolutely innocent, and still strange.

And then he realized that she wanted him—and was afraid of him.

He set the shampoo down on a tile shelf and took her into his arms, ignoring the blast of the hot water on his shoulders. “Alex, what’s wrong?”

“I’m in danger. You told me so yourself,” she assured him, eyes amazingly green in the steamy closeness of the shower.

“But not from me,” he whispered.

She stared back at him. Then, suddenly, she shuddered once again, moving into his arms. He held her there while the water poured over them. He felt the delicious surge of heat sluicing over his body, felt himself becoming molten steel, abs bunching, sex rising, limbs feeling like iron, but vital, movable…

She knew his arousal. Knew it, sensed it, touched it. Her fingers slid erotically down the wet length of his chest and curled around his sex. She ran her fingers up and down the length of him, creating an abundance of slick, sensual suds. Spasms of arousal shuddered through him, and he lowered his lips to her shoulder, her throat, then caught her mouth with his own, tongue delving with sheer erotic intent. He ran his hands down her back, massaged his fingers over the base of her spine, cupped them around her buttocks and drew her hard against him. He was only vaguely aware of the pounding of the water. He was keenly cognizant of the feel of her flesh against his, and the heat rising between them. Catching her around the midriff, he lifted her, met her eyes and slowly brought her down, sheathing himself inside her, and finally, when her limbs were wrapped around him and they were completely locked together, he pressed her back against the tile and began to move. She buried her head against his neck, rocking, riding, moving with his every thrust, her teeth grazing his shoulders, the water careening over them both. It wasn’t enough.

Without letting her go, he used one hand to reach for the door. Opening it, he exited the slick shower with her still enfolding him and staggered to the bedroom, then fell down on the bed with her, drenching the neat spread and not caring in the least. They rocked together in a desperate rhythm that seemed to be echoed by the rise of the wind and spatter of the rain beyond the confines of the cottage. He moved, and his lips found her throat, her breasts, her mouth, once again. He brought them both to a near frenzy, withdrew, and then, despite her fingers in his hair and her urgency to bring him back, he kissed the length of her soap-slicked body, burying himself between her thighs, relishing her words of both ecstasy and urgency, at last rejoining her once again, his force rising with his shuddering thrust, until they climaxed in a sweet and shattering explosion.

They lay together afterward, damp and panting. His arm remained around her, but strangely, she suddenly seemed detached. So passionate, so incredible…

And then…

“It’s getting late. I’ve got to get dressed. Grab a few things…did you want to go to your cottage? You could do that while I pack a few things.”

He stared down at her, definitely taken aback. “Wham, bang, thank you, sir?” he inquired politely.

She flushed. “There’s a storm on the way.”

“Of course, excuse me, let me just get out of the way.”

He rose, baffled, heading for his clothes. Then he stopped, turning back to her. “Alex, there’s always a storm on the way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You—there’s always something. You won’t talk.”

“There is a storm out there!” she exclaimed.

“If you’d ever called me, ever talked about the thoughts going through your mind—”

“I called you a number of times, David. There was always someone there to say that you’d get back to me, you were in the water, you were working with a submersible…you were…well, God knows what you were doing,” she told him.