Happily Ever After Reviews 4 1/2 cups
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I'd like to share another excerpt from 'In The Presence Of Evil'. Enjoy!
Cole’s sixth sense kicked in. A tall, slim shadow grew larger on the wall he faced.
Gina slept the last time he’d checked on her, and Rusty wouldn’t creep.
Had someone gotten past Rusty? Was Gina okay? He fought the urge to bulldoze the guy over and race to her side.
Rule one; self-preservation. He couldn’t be distracted by the image of Rusty or Gina injured or dead. Rule two; take out the intruder. Rule three; find Gina and Rusty, and get them medical help if—
He wouldn’t think the worse.
He had to follow the rules.
Cole concentrated on keeping his breathing normal and waited for the right moment to make his move. The hairs on the nape of his neck prickled as if the cold finger of death toyed with him.
He nuzzled his cheek into the pillow and felt the butt of his gun. His muscles tensed. Under his breath he silently counted one, two, three, and then in a fluid motion, he grabbed his weapon and spiraled off the bed toward his predator, hoping to catch him off guard.
Cole wrapped his arm around legs and dropped the body to the floor, surprised by the light weight.
A high-pitched yelp cut through the night.
“Cole, stop. It’s me.”
“Jesus, Gina.” He halted slamming his gun into her head by a fiction of an inch and braced himself on his elbows.
Her soft body moved under him, and he went hard all over.
A shard of moonlight beamed through the window above them and cut across her shocked expression. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I was just checking on you.”
Her voice shook, and Cole’s heart hammered his sternum. “You almost got yourself killed. Do you know that?”
“I do now.”
Gina’s nails bit into his forearms. The rapid rise and fall of her breasts tickled his chest hair. The satin fabric of her nightgown brushed against his stomach. He recalled the red nightie he’d seen thrown across her bed the night before, and his blood pulsed to areas south of his boxer’s waistband imagining her wearing it now.
He took in the feel of her, recording each soft curve to memory for those nights when he needed to remember a happier time.
Cole’s nostrils flared. Gina’s sweet scent surrounded him like a London fog. The silky strands of her hair lay beneath his hand, tangled in his fingers, and he couldn’t resist the urge to play with the curls, relish their feel. Why was she here?
“What do you want, Gina?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. There is something. I can feel it.”
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