Lori Foster - Dash of Peril

“Stay back,” he told her as he set the heavy cast-iron skillet on the stove top. “I don’t want you to get burned.”

Because her legs were still shaky and weak, she dropped back to the wall. “You’re being impossible.”

Nothing.

She watched him turn the chicken and return it to the oven, then put on vegetables to steam. “Chicken is one of my favorites.”

“I know.”

Vaguely she remembered him questioning her during his routine check of her concussion. And now, knowing her preferences, he’d been considerate enough to cook for her.

She felt like the bitch others often called her. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He turned to her. “Dinner will be ready in ten.” His gaze went over her. “You going to eat in that?”

Would it bother him? Unlike her, he hadn’t yet gotten his jollies. “Why not?” He might be pissed, but still her body kept drawing his notice. She liked that enough that she even let the quilt droop lower on one side until a nipple almost showed. “With this stupid splint it’s difficult to get a shirt on.”

When Dash pushed away from the stove, his own expression unreadable, a new thrill danced up her spine. Even now, with him obviously disappointed in her early perceptions of him, she knew he was determined to make her hot.

As he approached, she resisted the urge to back up. “What are you doing?”

He stopped in front of her and his big hands took hold of the quilt near her breasts. “If you want to turn me on, it’s working.” The way he curled his fingers over the material meant his knuckles brushed her skin. “But you know what would work better?”

She shook her head.

With a small smile, he slowly pulled away the quilt, leaving her naked. “God, you have a kickin’ body.”

The way he looked at her made her feel sexier than she’d ever imagined.

His hands went over her, stroking her breasts again, caressing down her belly. One hand moved over her ass and then up between her legs. He bent and kissed her, a slow, thorough kiss with plenty of tongue that made her legs weak all over again.

He kissed her until she clung to him, her breath rushing, her skin hot.

Gently he pulled away. “Let’s see how we’re progressing here.” He stared into her eyes while the fingers between her legs examined her, then his eyes darkened with satisfaction. “Nice. It seems we’re both in the same shape again.”

“What...”

“I’m still rock-hard. It only seems right for you to be bothered a little, too, right?” Pulling off his shirt, he dropped it over her head, easily working her splinted arm through first, then her other arm.

It smelled of him, hot and delicious, and cocooned her in his scent.

So unfair. Now she was covered, but she had the view of his solid shoulders and wide chest.

He pulled out her chair as if he expected her to sit. “I hope you’re hungry, honey. I made plenty.”

Margo didn’t know what to do. He just stood there, waiting oh-so-patiently, his gaze unwavering, so damn hot that she wanted to jump him.

He was right. Carnal need again racked her body.

“Trust me,” Dash whispered as he held out a hand to her, and the gesture was so sweet, a way to help her give in, that she blew out a breath and did as he asked.

Gratified, he bent and kissed her forehead—then went back to cooking as if the standoff hadn’t happened at all. And damn it, that turned her on, too.

It seemed Dashiel Riske had her completely figured out. The man had the most diabolical way of turning her inside out, making her nearly frantic to have him. Margo didn’t know if that was a good thing, or very, very dangerous...for her heart.

DASH FELT HER WATCHING him as he put two aspirin next to her plate and filled her glass with iced tea. “You can ask me anything, you know that, right?”

Confusion kept her brows pinched down. She tossed back the aspirin. “The chicken smells good.”

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Mom is an okay cook, but my grandma could put twenty pounds on anyone.” He smiled as he served first her, then himself. “But we both know that’s not what you want to talk about.” He joined her at the table.

It was the oddest thing, watching Margo screw up her nerve. She was a fearless woman who would put herself in the line of fire to save someone else, but now, with him, over chicken dinner, she seemed so uncertain.

Dash sat back. “Out with it, honey. Then we can both enjoy our meal.”

Predictably enough, her chin lifted and she met his gaze. “Fine.” It took a second as she seemed to search for the words. “You said...you said you loved it when I was...” More searching, and she settled on, “Passive.”

Now what was she thinking? Dash crossed his arms over his chest. “I love seeing how turned on you get. So?”

“So I’m seldom like that. It’s not really me, it’s just—”

“It’s you,” Dash corrected her. No way would he let her deny how good the sex was between them.

That she’d once thought him boring...yeah, that burned his ass big-time. Hopefully he’d already disabused her of that notion. But it bothered him enough that he thought about giving in to her tonight. He worried for her injured arm, but he could take extra care—and utilizing that care would, in itself, be another form of foreplay.

“You know what I mean, Dash.”

“I do.” He knew her far better than she realized. “Occasionally enjoying a submissive role during sex is only a small part of who you are. But it’s honest, and important.” Catching on to her concern, he sat forward, his arms folded on the tabletop. “I love seeing you all warm and aroused, waiting for me to take care of you. But I also love it when you’re cocky like you were today with that idiot in the truck. Much as it scared me, it also impressed me.” He grinned at her. “I even like it when you’re all prickly, giving me a hard time.”

She shook her head, maybe in disbelief, maybe in confusion.

Dash reached for her hand. “And I love how you are right now, uncertain but straightforward with me, determined to draw some boundaries in our relationship.”

“Is it a relationship?”

His gaze narrowed. “Yes.”

She searched his face for the longest time. “And if I’m ever not in the mood to be docile?”

He grinned. “Then bring it on. I guarantee I can handle it.” Because I can handle you, every fascinating part of your personality. But he decided not to voice that confidence just yet.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’m sure we’ll enjoy ourselves all the same.” Because being with her could never be less than mind-blowing.

She gave it a lot of thought and then with a slight smile, she released his hand and picked up her fork. “All right.”

That was a mighty easy capitulation. “I’m not boring?” He wanted to hear her admit it.

“Ha! No, definitely not boring.” She eyed his chest. “You’re so exciting, I’m not sure I can take much more.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have to. He’d see how she felt after dinner—and make up his mind then. It was that “boring” comment that made him want to prove himself, he knew, but what the hell, he was only a man and he had his pride.

It amazed Dash to see her dig into her dinner. “Mmm, this is good.”

Fickle woman.

They were halfway through dinner when Margo got a call from Rowdy. She heard her cell ringing from the bedroom, where she’d left it in her purse, and started to stand.

Dash waved her back to her seat. “I’ll get it for you.”

“It could be the station,” she said, getting up to follow him anyway.

Dash had no intention of breeching her privacy. He just picked up the purse and carried it back to her, meeting her in the hallway. Quickly she dug out the phone and answered on the sixth ring.

“Hello? Oh, Rowdy, hi.” She gave Dash a quick glance and headed back to the kitchen. “What’s up?”

Dash silently followed her. Unlike the last time he’d seen her with Rowdy, there was no inflection in her tone other than mild interest.

Jealousy was a bitch. He fucking hated it.

She’d thought he would be boring—but she had wanted Rowdy.

Hiding his feelings on the matter wasn’t easy. Definitely, tonight, he would have her.

When she reached the table he held out her chair and she smiled at him as she seated herself. “When was this?” she asked Rowdy. And then she said, “I’ll have Reese and Logan check it out.” She listened, then scowled. “So I’m finding out last?”

Dash reseated himself across from her.

Her discontent intensified and she stiffened. “Damn it.” She listened, shook her head. “Yes, you do that. And next time call me first.” More listening, and then a sigh. “No, I would have sent... Well, yeah. All right, fine. I understand. Call me if you find out anything else.” She closed the phone, looked ready to toss it and instead set it carefully on the tabletop.

“Trouble?” Dash asked.

She forked up some veggies. “Rowdy got a lead on where the firebugs might’ve been hiding out. He told Logan about it, and he and Reese went to check it out.”

Ah. So Rowdy had bypassed her. “He went to them first because they were already out and about?”

“That’s what he says. I still think he should have told me first. There’s a proper order to the way things should be done.”

Dash saluted. He, himself, had a proper order in mind...for winning her over.

Margo’s eyes narrowed on him. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. By the time the boys got there, the place was toast.”

The boys. Funny that she would refer to two such competent detectives that way. “Toast how?”