Free Rules of Engagement by Ann Bruce Page A

turmoil carefully hidden by her blank face. “I just had the alarm upgraded.”
     
    He only shrugged and continued to regard her with a blank expression of his own. Then he rose and walked over to the large window overlooking the darkened patch of front lawn. He fiddled with the drapes, flicked back one panel then let it fall.
     
    Jake Duquesne was nervous, she realized with some incredulity. Who’d have thunk it?
     
    If he hadn’t stayed away for six months she would’ve put him at ease.
     
    “What are you doing here, Jake?” she asked, same steady, emotionless tone.
     
    He turned slowly, first his head, then the rest of him, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. He took a step forward then stopped when she instinctively took a step back. Katarzyna mentally berated herself for the retreat. That wasn’t the way to show him that he no longer had any affect on her.
     
    “You haven’t seen anyone in the last six months.”
     
    Katarzyna’s lips thinned. It hadn’t been a question, but a statement of fact. She could thank his interfering cousin for sharing with him that tidbit of Katarzyna’s pathetic social life.
     
    “I’ve been busy,” she said evenly. “I repeat, what are you doing here?”
     
    He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Neither have I.”
     
    Despite her resolve to remain aloof, Katarzyna squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled sharply. When her eyelids lifted he was still there, stirring up memories and emotions she had tried to deep-six after the first twenty-eight days went by with no word from him.
     
    “Do you want a medal?” she snapped, the anger she had tried to conceal leaking out. “Six months and you expect me to welcome you with open arms?”
     
    His hands balled into tight fists and anger slid into his eyes, darkening them to a pewter hue she recalled only too well.
     
    “Fuck it,” he muttered vehemently and was across the room in three strides. She told herself to step back, to step to the side, to stay out of reach, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. Then his hands were on either side of her head, holding her in place for the mouth that closed over hers.
     
    He didn’t waste time with niceties. His tongue speared into her mouth with a need she shamefully, eagerly reciprocated. He kissed her with a ferocity that stole her breath and any thoughts of resistance. He plundered her mouth, tangling her tongue with his. She clung to him, greedily refreshing her memory of the feel of him, the touch of him, the taste of him.
     
    Six months had felt like an eternity.
     
    One hand twisted in her hair, freeing it of its loose knot, and the other found her backside and pressed her close, closer, letting her feel his arousal. Fire snaked through her body, making Katarzyna dig her fingers into his sides. When he broke the kiss, she made a wordless sound of protest, which then melted into a breathless gasp of approval when he trailed searing kisses along the line of her jaw and down the column of her throat.
     
    He wanted more, but her clothes were in the way. He shoved the corduroy jacket off her shoulders and down her arms. Her button-down shirt lost a few buttons in his eagerness to undress her. The bra he simply pushed down until her breasts popped free and he could apply the wet, hot suction of his mouth to her swollen, aching flesh.
     
    Katarzyna buried her fingers in the thick strands of his hair and arched her back in wild abandon. He let her feel the edges of his teeth on her nipple before drawing back. She fought to keep him in place, but he was simply stronger. As his fingers busied themselves with the fastening of her jeans, he urged her back onto the armchair he’d vacated.
     
    Katarzyna, breathing harshly, fell onto the cool, smooth leather and let him roughly strip away her remaining articles of clothing. Her eyes at half-mast, she watched him undo his jeans and free himself. His cock was long and thick and