Silent Run - Barbara Freethy [60]
Jake put his hand under her chin, forcing her head up so she would have to meet his gaze. “Damn you, Sarah.”
She sucked in a quick breath at the look of raw desire in his eyes. “We shouldn’t,” she whispered.
“Hell, no,” he agreed as his thumb ran roughly around the edge of her mouth.
Her lips parted. She hadn’t meant it as an invitation, but he took it as one, crushing her mouth with his own in a harsh kiss that was a mix of anger and passion. She didn’t know where one emotion began and the other ended. She just knew she didn’t want the kiss to end. But it had to end. It needed to end.
Jake pulled away first, his breathing ragged, his eyes glittering. He gripped her arms, his fingers tightening so hard she could feel their imprint on her skin. Then he moved her away from him and released her, taking a couple steps back, putting some distance between them. For long moments all they did was stare at each other. Then Jake turned on his heel, stomped into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
She let out a breath, sinking down on her chair as she heard the shower go on.
Had he always kissed her like that? No wonder she’d gone to bed with him so fast. Her entire body was on fire. But she’d almost made a huge mistake. She couldn’t make love with Jake. She didn’t know him. He was a stranger to her now.
But the problem was . . . she felt as if she did know him. Her body recognized him, even if her mind didn’t, and her heart wanted to reach out to his. She felt an emotional connection as well as a physical one. And Jake felt something, too.
Despite everything she’d done to him, he still wanted her—and he hated himself for it. She knew his shower would be long, cold, and punishing.
For several minutes she just sat, breathing in and out, trying to calm down, but she could still taste Jake on her lips, feel his hands on her arms. At last she had a memory of him, a very recent memory, and it was overwhelming.
Finally her heart settled into a reasonable beat, and she forced herself to concentrate on what she needed to do next. Without Jake’s presence she tried to relax, visualize herself in the place she had called home for the past few months. There had to be a clue to her life somewhere in this apartment. She’d slept here every night. She’d eaten at the table, cooked in the kitchen, watched her baby sleep in the crib. Her gaze swept back and forth across the room.
Something bothered her. Something played at the back of her mind.
The details were off. Was it in the arrangement of the furniture? Was there a crooked photograph? Was there something about the way the curtain hung over the window? She walked slowly across the room, turned, and came back again. The floorboard creaked beneath her feet. She stopped and took another long look around the apartment.
What had Jake told her before?
That when she was taking pictures, her mind always went to the odd detail that made the photograph more interesting.
There were three small throw rugs on the floor that gave some color and life to the worn brown carpet. One was in front of the apartment door, the other in front of the kitchen door, and the third by the window.
Why wasn’t it in front of the bathroom door? It would have made more sense to put it there.
She walked over to the window and knelt down, then in one fluid motion picked up the rug. She’d done this before, she thought. There was a heater vent hidden under the rug. Why would she put a rug over a heater?
She reached into the slats of the vent and pulled the metal piece up, once again feeling that odd sense of déjà vu.
Putting the metal grate aside, she peered into a small, dark hole. Reaching in, she took out a pile of cards and rocked back on her heels to see what she had. She laid the cards out on the floor, shocked to see that they were driver’s licenses, each one with a different name, a different address, but