Running Hot by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

human contact. Okay, technically there had been no penetration, at least not by the portion of the male anatomy that was, by tradition and in legal terms, generally considered the penetrating object. “Heavy petting” was probably the correct term. Still, there had been a lot of skin-to-skin contact. Also an overwhelmingly powerful climax, at least for her. She felt a little guilty about that part.
    The truth was, she had been too shattered by the experience to reciprocate. Just staying on her feet had required most of her strength and willpower. The whole experience had left her oddly disoriented, balanced precariously on a knife edge of exquisite relief and anxious amazement. Was she cured of her phobia or had last night been some bizarre interlude created by the close brush with the hunter?
    Luther seemed to have understood. Either that, or he had lost interest when she had collapsed, crying on his chest. Men were not keen on dealing with tearful women. That probably went double when it came to women who cried after an orgasm. She couldn’t blame him.
    Whatever the answer, he had seen to it that they returned immediately to the hotel. The elevator had been empty, thank goodness. She didn’t think she could have managed the stairs. When they reached the suite, he’d ushered her into the bedroom and then closed the door very deliberately.
    Obviously at some point during the night he’d opened the door. Well, he was a bodyguard, after all.
    “I’m fine,” she said. She drew her knees up under the bedding and wrapped her arms around them. “Just a bad dream.” Alarm sparked through her. If she had awakened him, she must have cried out. “Did I say anything?”
    “No.”
    “Good.” She relaxed a little.
    “You said no,” he explained. “You were thrashing around a lot and you said no a couple of times. Must have been bad.”
    “Well, it wasn’t terribly pleasant.” She sank back against the pillows. At least she hadn’t mumbled Martin’s name in her sleep. But there was no getting around the fact that it had been a very close call.
    “Probably brought on by that brush with the hunter last night,” Luther suggested. “That kind of thing can affect the dream state in people like us.”
    “People like us?”
    “Sensitives.”
    “Right.”
    But it wasn’t the hunter who had invaded her dreams. The memory of the way her nerves had quieted when he went past returned in a rush. She had been too occupied with other things, including her first orgasm in longer than she cared to recall, to think about what had happened out there on the path. But now it occurred to her that last night she had experienced the same eerie, unnatural sense of calm that had made the dream feel so very different. In both instances the ratcheting down of the panic had been unnatural. She had fought it instinctively.
    “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’m going to finish getting dressed,” Luther said. He started to retreat into the other room.
    “Hold it right there.”
    Obediently he paused. “Something wrong?”
    “Yes, I think there is something wrong.” She pushed aside the covers, got to her feet and faced him across the tumbled bed. “I want an explanation.”
    “Of what?”
    “You used your aura energy to squelch some of mine out there on the path last night, didn’t you? Admit it. I’ll bet you did it again a few minutes ago while I was dreaming. How dare you?”
    He stood very still in the doorway. “Take it easy, you’ve had a long day and you’ve just come out of a nightmare. Your nerves are probably still a little unsettled.”
    “My nerves are fine, thank you very much. What did you do to me?”
    “You felt it?” he asked, frowning a little as if he was not certain that he had heard her correctly.
    “Well, of course I did. I didn’t have time to think about it last night because I was focused on the hunter and the fact that he wasn’t paying any attention to us and—” She broke off, astonishment