alive? I don’t.”
“Who is this?”
The phone clicked and then Jillian heard a dial tone. Frantically, she punched the talk button again. The suspect was gone.
“Jillian?”
She gasped. Her gaze flew to the mirror. A dark figure stood behind her, silhouetted in the dim light from bathroom. She whirled and raised her arm, intent on fighting with the only weapon she had—the phone.
Relief flooded her when she saw it was Benton. Clutching the sheet, she sank to her knees and forced herself to take deep gulps of air. The phone tumbled from her fingers to the hardwood floor.
Immediately he was next to her, his strong arms engulfing her. Long fingers threaded into her hair and he held her head against his chest. “You’re trembling,” he whispered.
“That was the person who took Amy. He…” she began, but then realized she couldn’t be certain from the suspect’s voice if it was a man or a woman. “He knew about you. He knew Amy called you my Gatekeeper. He knew about my blue sweater.”
“Shh.” He squeezed her tighter. “Listen to me.”
She became still, realizing in that stillness that he was wearing only a snowy muslin shirt and his gray trousers held up by a set of dark-colored suspenders.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Jillian swallowed. She knew she should call Theo immediately but she didn’t want to leave the sanctuary of Benton’s embrace. She opened her palm to put it against his chest but again, her hand passed through him. Frustration brewed. She wanted to touch him, to feel him, to seek comfort in his arms. She needed it. She needed it badly.
A little sob tore from her throat. “Benton, please, I…”
Then her hand found the hard wall of his chest and lower, the tense, flat stomach covered only by a thin layer of smooth, soft cotton. She swallowed. Hard. She looked up and her gaze found his. The softest smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. A tumult of emotions she could not identify rushed through her being.
His chest rose and fell with a deep, resigned breath. What was he feeling? What was he thinking?
Jillian was unable to tear her gaze away from his. He was beautiful in the ethereal glow of moonlight spilling through the plantation blinds. So real. So solid. And in that moment, everything seemed crystal clear. She wanted him. Her reservations no longer mattered. She wanted to feel him, every inch of him, encompassing her, sheltering her. For once, she wanted to act without thinking, to live without considering the consequences of the past and the future, to be fully, wholly present in this moment . But she did not dare ask.
Anguish was evident in his silvery gaze—and something else. Something unguarded, fierce. Jillian could stare no longer. She could not bear rejection again. Not today. Not now. She started to look away, to bury her head once more against his chest but he caught her chin in his palm and tilted her face up to his. A husky groan emanated from somewhere deep inside him and then he claimed her mouth, kissing her, his tongue forcing through the small opening her lips had left him to plunder inside.
Mindless, Jillian yielded to him, clinging to his strong shoulders as he continued the onslaught of her mouth. She trembled.
Big hands roamed over her body, caressing her through the sheet. Jillian wanted it off but it was wound too tightly around her limbs. A moan of protest escaped her lips when his mouth left hers but her objection was short lived. He nuzzled her neck, his little moustache and beard tickling her, teasing the sensitive skin there. Jillian gripped his head, flinging hers back to give him easier access. His mouth was hot, wet and relentless. Wetness flooded her pussy. She could hear herself encouraging him, giving voice to words she had never before used.
His fingers found one of her nipples through the thin cotton sheet, sending white hot desire dashing straight to her pussy. “Now, Benton. Now.” Her pleas were seductive,
“Who is this?”
The phone clicked and then Jillian heard a dial tone. Frantically, she punched the talk button again. The suspect was gone.
“Jillian?”
She gasped. Her gaze flew to the mirror. A dark figure stood behind her, silhouetted in the dim light from bathroom. She whirled and raised her arm, intent on fighting with the only weapon she had—the phone.
Relief flooded her when she saw it was Benton. Clutching the sheet, she sank to her knees and forced herself to take deep gulps of air. The phone tumbled from her fingers to the hardwood floor.
Immediately he was next to her, his strong arms engulfing her. Long fingers threaded into her hair and he held her head against his chest. “You’re trembling,” he whispered.
“That was the person who took Amy. He…” she began, but then realized she couldn’t be certain from the suspect’s voice if it was a man or a woman. “He knew about you. He knew Amy called you my Gatekeeper. He knew about my blue sweater.”
“Shh.” He squeezed her tighter. “Listen to me.”
She became still, realizing in that stillness that he was wearing only a snowy muslin shirt and his gray trousers held up by a set of dark-colored suspenders.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Jillian swallowed. She knew she should call Theo immediately but she didn’t want to leave the sanctuary of Benton’s embrace. She opened her palm to put it against his chest but again, her hand passed through him. Frustration brewed. She wanted to touch him, to feel him, to seek comfort in his arms. She needed it. She needed it badly.
A little sob tore from her throat. “Benton, please, I…”
Then her hand found the hard wall of his chest and lower, the tense, flat stomach covered only by a thin layer of smooth, soft cotton. She swallowed. Hard. She looked up and her gaze found his. The softest smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. A tumult of emotions she could not identify rushed through her being.
His chest rose and fell with a deep, resigned breath. What was he feeling? What was he thinking?
Jillian was unable to tear her gaze away from his. He was beautiful in the ethereal glow of moonlight spilling through the plantation blinds. So real. So solid. And in that moment, everything seemed crystal clear. She wanted him. Her reservations no longer mattered. She wanted to feel him, every inch of him, encompassing her, sheltering her. For once, she wanted to act without thinking, to live without considering the consequences of the past and the future, to be fully, wholly present in this moment . But she did not dare ask.
Anguish was evident in his silvery gaze—and something else. Something unguarded, fierce. Jillian could stare no longer. She could not bear rejection again. Not today. Not now. She started to look away, to bury her head once more against his chest but he caught her chin in his palm and tilted her face up to his. A husky groan emanated from somewhere deep inside him and then he claimed her mouth, kissing her, his tongue forcing through the small opening her lips had left him to plunder inside.
Mindless, Jillian yielded to him, clinging to his strong shoulders as he continued the onslaught of her mouth. She trembled.
Big hands roamed over her body, caressing her through the sheet. Jillian wanted it off but it was wound too tightly around her limbs. A moan of protest escaped her lips when his mouth left hers but her objection was short lived. He nuzzled her neck, his little moustache and beard tickling her, teasing the sensitive skin there. Jillian gripped his head, flinging hers back to give him easier access. His mouth was hot, wet and relentless. Wetness flooded her pussy. She could hear herself encouraging him, giving voice to words she had never before used.
His fingers found one of her nipples through the thin cotton sheet, sending white hot desire dashing straight to her pussy. “Now, Benton. Now.” Her pleas were seductive,
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