Deadly Liaisons. Elle James

wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his buttocks, urging him to go faster, pump harder. He complied, driving in again and again, until he burst over the edge, a flash of mind-blowing sensations inundating his body, wave after wave.

      When he returned to reality, he was buried inside her, still hard, still standing and thoroughly satiated. He slipped free, scooted her farther up the bed and lay down beside her, gathering her into his arms.

      Nova wondered what had just happened. Since Sophia, he hadn’t been that out of control with a woman. And he’d been quick to leave as soon as they’d had sex. With Molly, he felt no compelling desire to leave her. Instead, he wanted to hold her, to feel her body against his through the night, driving away the cold, erasing the memories, renewing his faith in humanity. He could get used to having her around.

      He had to remind himself that wasn’t an option.

      * * *

      The arm around her middle tightened, pulling Molly back against Casanova’s hard body. She reveled in the warmth, the sense of security and the feeling of completeness, forgetting for a few crazy moments that this would not last. By tomorrow, he’d be gone, and she’d be running the B&B by herself, alone as usual.

      Why she’d invited him into her room, she didn’t know. Perhaps seeing her brother and Kayla and Emma and Creed interact so happily with the ones they loved had sparked something inside that she’d been careful to keep buried. For the past three years, she’d told herself she didn’t need a man in her life. Relationships were too difficult. They hurt too much.

      But there was the physical side of having someone there that she couldn’t forget. The warmth of a body lying next to her, the feel of a man driving deep inside, filling all those empty places she’d thought long forgotten.

      What had come over her to invite a stranger into her bed? Her hand curled around his brawny arm. Was it the way his gaze had followed her around the room? She’d never understood the phrase undressing her with his eyes until she’d met Casanova. Every move she’d made in front of him, fully clothed, she’d felt exposed, naked and desirable. Her body had reacted before her brain engaged.

      When he’d found her in the fog, she’d reacted like any female grateful to him for saving her and bringing her back to the house would. But gratitude had nothing to do with her opening her bedroom door and her body to him. She could only attribute that to the rampaging desire flaming through her, too long suppressed. She’d invited him in, telling herself it was just a night, he was just a man, not a relationship, and he’d be out of her life before the sun rose on the next day. No strings, no regrets.

      But the warm reality of his body spooning hers was so much more than what she’d imagined. The warmth faded as she remembered what came next. Morning, daylight and his departure from the McGregor B&B.

      Her heart lodged in her throat and her eyes ached, a precursor to the tears she refused to shed over a stranger. She pushed his arm away and sat up. “I need to check the kitchen. I think I forgot to turn off the burner on the stove.”

      He sat up, too, his lips curling. “I’ll check it. I’m headed down, anyway.”

      “No, take your time. I always do a last pass before I call it a night.” She jumped out of the bed, slipped a silky pink robe over her nakedness and ran for the door.

      His chuckle followed her to the end of the dark landing, where she stopped to gather her wits and a breath before her descent to the main floor. As she took the first step, a ghostly white figure flashed in her peripheral vision.

      Molly teetered on the top step, remembering too late that the lightbulb over the landing needed replacing. Then a firm pressure on her back sent her tumbling down the steps. She didn’t have time to scream. Her arms and legs flailed as she scrambled for a grip on something, anything, to slow her fall. Pain shot through her where her body and limbs banged against risers and rails on her wild trip plummeting downward. When she came to an abrupt stop at the bottom, she lay still, breathing hard and mentally accounting for all her body parts, each of them reminding her where they were with a fresh wash of pain.

      As she lay there, her vision fading in and out, she wondered what the hell had happened. Her mind whirled around the voice in the fog and the ethereal aberration on the landing. But what stood out most was the pressure on her back as she’d taken that first step.

      As a wall of fog surrounded her, one thing was very clear. Whether it had been man or ghost, she’d been pushed down those steps.