Assassin Treasure (Assassin #3)

When Candy awoke she jumped, startled to see Dirk watching her with his piercing gaze. He sat closely pressed against her hip, a hand on either side of her, leaning over her body in an intimidating fashion. Mortified, she noticed her breasts were exposed before him, his chest resting only inches from her peaks. Her nipples had hardened in the coolness of the air and seemed to strain towards him.

She pulled the covers tight against her nude body, scooting downwards, and blushed deeply, the sheet to her nose, trying to hide from him.

"I won't attack you, Candy. You have been helpless and lay nude before me for over four days. I've managed to curb my animal lust and not pounce upon you while you lay motionless and at my mercy. How do you think you come to lay there feeling so fresh and clean?" Dirk asked wryly.

Candy blushed deeper. Four days? Had it been that long? She wondered if he had kept her nude for most of the duration. She remembered the feeling of bathing in the lake at the cottage in her mind, the feeling of the cloth slipping over her body. Try as she might she had been unable to scrub at herself. The cloth had seemed to possess a life of its own as it caressed its way around her breasts in slow circles.

She remembered moaning in pleasure when the feeling slipped down between her backside and over her intimately. She had given in to the sensual feel of it, almost feeling a wicked need.

Dirk settled two more of the creamy white soft pillows upon the bed behind her. He clasped her under her arms, sitting her up, propping her against them with ease. She looked at him, startled. He cast her a wry look. She realized he must have spent a great deal of time lifting her, and so the movement just came naturally to him. He then reached for a tray that had been left upon a honey glazed table close by. He placed it over her hips and grandly removed the silver lid.

Candy gazed upon fluffy whipped eggs, cottage cheese and peaches. Fresh strawberries sat with a dollop of whip cream nestled on top of blueberry pancakes with real butter and sweet maple syrup. A small glass of orange juice was on one side, a steaming mug on the other.

"I didn't know if you liked tea or coffee in the morning so Carrie suggested hot chocolate. Personally I can't stand the stuff, but I hope you like it," Dirk said.

He continued to gaze down at her. She hadn't eaten solids in a while and she was hoping she could keep something down. It all smelled wonderful, but his presence distressed her and she fidgeted, feeling nervous. She wasn't certain what to make of his attitude, as though he had forgotten what he had done. She wasn't in any pain anymore, her arms didn't hurt. She also knew he hadn't been intimate with her. His actions confused her. One moment he was hard and cold, the next he was serving her breakfast in bed.

To her he seemed like a fast flowing river current, as unpredictable as an undertow, as though he allowed you to see the clear bottom for just a brief moment before the emotions tumbled on waves, becoming endless deep darkness.