Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [37]
Mercy. Jago’s body twanged, the sound of a taut bow being plucked. Sexual, yes, hitting his groin with the force of receiving a kick; then the vibration moved up his chest and lodged dead center. In his heart. Oh boy, he was in trouble. Her expression of such wonder demanded a kiss, but he knew it was a trap. The instant he kissed her, he wouldn’t want to stop. While sex on an air mattress definitely had possibilities, not with an audience and especially not when one over-protective brother would be one of the watchers.
He settled for gently taking her wrist, his thumb brushing the now livid bruises left by that jerk Faulkner. Anger boiled in him that the creep had dared touch her. Leaning forward, he pressed a light kiss to each purple mark. Asha’s eyes dilated; those long, black lashes batted surprise at the gesture. Another punch to his gut.
He treaded water, slowly towing the raft toward the shallow end of the pool, out of splash range of Liam and Netta, who were still diving off the board. Mesmerized by Asha’s lovely face, he worried about what had happened to her when she entered the pool. Not enough Pepsi just didn’t cover what he’d witnessed. Other than appearing pale, she seemed to have recovered. Even so, Jago couldn’t erase the scene from his mind: She had entered the swimming pool and then froze like a statue.
As he’d watched her, a minute of puzzlement passed before the realization hit him that something was wrong. Okay, he’d been drooling—a horny idiot, no blood in his brain, that had gone south the minute she’d thrown off her black robe and revealed that killer body in all its glory. It’d taken a minute for logic to override his libido. Could anyone blame him? Nothing could’ve prepared him for Asha in the barely-there suit. The metallic fabric shimmered, woven so it appeared dark gold one instant, then nearly black the next. It hugged her breasts and hips as though spray-painted on, the iridescent flicker of material emphasizing her to-die-for body. The impact stunned him, his whole system going into sensory meltdown. He’d remained where he was, waiting for Asha to come to him, afraid if he moved even one inch, he’d go after her, lay her on the poolside and take her, right then and there.
Never had his gut twisted in such an agony of animalistic wanting. His arm had slipped off the drain, skinning his elbow as he absorbed the psychic punch of seeing her. He’d have bet a chunk of change Miss Asha Montgomerie would come out in a prim and proper suit, not something that made Netta look like she wore a Mother Hubbard. Finally it registered in his hormone-riddled brain that Asha had frozen in mid-movement as she entered the pool. Blood drained from him; he raced to reach her, Liam behind him. His heartbeat was rapid, erratic. Not from swimming. From dread. He told himself there was nothing wrong with her, yet he couldn’t quell his panic. He’d reacted the same way when that creep had dared touch her in the diner, only this was tenfold.
Though there wasn’t anything in Julian’s report on Asha having it, epilepsy was his first thought. Terror gripped him as he feared she’d slip into a grand mal and would slam her head against the steps before he could reach her. Instead of a seizure, she merely stood, unmoving, cold to the touch. Her heartbeat, though a little slow, was strong, steady. He looked into those tawny eyes, dilated, unfocused. Downright spooky.
Then they’d fixed on his hand, where he had hold of her arm, and blinked several times. Gradually, color flooded her waxen skin. Releasing a breath he didn’t know he held until then, warm relief had flooded through him.
He didn’t like to think Asha had lied to him, but the way she evaded his questions afterward caused him to feel certain there was more to it than a lack of sugar. But for the life of him, he couldn’t deduce what.
Like the bizarre incident in the restaurant earlier, biding his time wasn’t easy when he wanted to demand answers.
Desmond and Trev were often bulls in a china shop when they wanted something done. Jago preferred to