Playing for Keeps Read Online Free Page B

the coffee torture.
    “Last one.” He stood over her, cup poised at her lips. “Promise.”
    “Which means there’s another gallon,” Danica said tiredly, rubbing, not scratching, a bite behind her ear. There wasn’t a muscle, a bone, a joint, or a cell in her body that didn’t hurt or itch. “Hello? Tea drinker, remember?”
    Of course he didn’t. Jon Raven had always been one hundred percent focused on what Jon Raven wanted to the exclusion of all else. Oh, she knew he cared about her in his self-possessed, it’s-all-about-me way. Jon was around when he wanted to be. When his schedule permitted. She was little more than a footnote in his action-packed life.
    Well, she wanted more than the few crumbs he tossed her way when it suited him. Not that Jon’s crumb tossing had been anything to sneer at. Five minutes of his undivided attention equaled a year with a lesser man.
    And that was the problem.
    It thrilled her and annoyed her in like amounts. When he made time for her-for them-it was nothing short of spectacular. Especially in bed. In bed, they’d been- Danica dragged her already soggy brain away from that minefield. Sex had never been a problem with them.
    Everything else. But never sex.
    He took her hand, wrapping her fingers around the cup, and pushed it inexorably toward her mouth. His dark hair had grown since she’d seen him last-twelve months, one week, and three days ago, not that she was counting-and now brushed his collar. His eyes, blue as Mediterranean waters, looked bruised and intense. And his mouth-God, his mouth. The mouth that used to take her to places of intense delight was now narrowed with poorly veiled. . .what? Anger? Annoyance?
    Fear?
    No way. Jon Raven wasn’t afraid of anything.
    “Buck up and drink,” he said tightly. Using a finger to lift the cup to her mouth. “These bastards have been drugging you. You have to wake up and get with the program.”
    Because he wasn’t giving her multiple choices, and because she knew the caffeine would clear her brain, Danica chugged the coffee like bad medicine-worse now that it was lukewarm-and thrust the cup back at him. Making sure this time to avoid any skin contact. “I understand the principle. Stop bullying me.”
    “I’m not bullying you, I’m saving you.”
    “Well, don’t save me so loudly, okay?”
    She felt at a distinct disadvantage as he loomed above her. Still a tad foggy on the details, she remembered being dragged up, positioned against a mound of pillows and him holding a cup to her lips. A quick glance down to see what the hell she was wearing, revealed the crumpled sheets bunched in her lap, leaving her torso revealed, clad in a too flimsy, unfamiliar white nightie.
    Jon’s repositioning had pulled the thin silk taut so it now strained against her like a second skin. As armor went, the nightie was useless. The lacy cups meant to conceal her breasts-sort of-were low enough that the areola of each nipple showed. A fact made crystal clear as she felt his gaze drop to admire the view.
    Not even attempting to be subtle, she pulled at the stretchy lace so it at least covered her nipples. She wanted to yank the sheet up too, but he was sitting on it. Danica hated that despite suffering the trauma of a plane crash and being drugged for God knew how long, Jon don’t-you-dare-smile-at-me-that-way Raven had only to look at her to inspire that sudden rush of need inside her. He was warm and solid, and smelled of Lever 2000 soap, a heady, aphrodisiacal fragrance reminding Danica of long steamy showers and hot sex.
    Sadly, she knew that when she was ninety, in a wheelchair and half blind, a mere flash of his attention would still have the same effect on her.
    He glanced; she melted. Nothing changed.
    But she could cover up. She had to if she wanted to protect her dignity. Not physical dignity-she liked her body just fine. Emotional dignity. She didn’t want Jon to see that even in her weakened state she still responded to him