Read Men of Intrgue A Trilogy for Free Online Page B

admit it, but I can’t understand why...”
    The razor fell from his fingers as he gripped the edge of the sink with both hands, his knuckles white.
    “What is it?” Helen asked, moving in to steady him.
    “Nothing, just felt a little dizzy.” He went to pick up the razor again, and Helen grabbed it out of his hand.
    “That’s it,” she said firmly. “You sit down and I’ll shave you.”
    “You’re not shaving me,” he protested as she tried to push him into the vanity chair. He was objecting to the servile nature of the task.       
    “Yes, I am, or you keep the beard. And unless you want little children to run screaming out of your path, I suggest you get rid of it.”
    “That bad, huh?” he replied glumly.
    “You said so yourself.”
    He sat down, subsiding with surprising meekness. Helen had a strong feeling that it was a rare thing for him to succumb to another’s will. She relathered his face, noticing that his drying hair was the color of bittersweet chocolate, a shade lighter than his brows and lashes, which were jet black. Shining now with cleanliness, it fell in loose waves onto his forehead and around his ears. And as she drew the razor over his skin, his features emerged, more clearly than she had ever seen them; even on the first night they were already shrouded with stubble. The face that evolved was that of a young grandee in a Goya court portrait: fierce, proud, beautiful. Careful to avoid glancing down at his near nude body, Helen finished shaving him, wiping his cheeks with a towel and removing daubs of cream from his ears. He watched all the while with his alert, cola brown eyes; they moved with her, following her to the medicine chest as she removed a fresh gauze pad from a shelf and stripped off the paper wrapper.
    “Just hold still for a minute,” she instructed him. “I want to cover your arm with this.”
    The wound was scabbing over and healing nicely, draining just a little clear fluid. Helen swabbed it with alcohol and fastened the new bandage in place, smoothing the surgical tape with a meticulous fingertip.
    “You take such good care of me,” he said, looking up at her from his sitting position.
    “All part of the friendly service,” Helen answered lightly, putting away the shaving gel. “Now on your feet, buddy. You should be back in bed.”
    She took both his hands and hauled him upward, while at the same time he rose on his own. The result was that he stumbled forward and lost his balance for a second, falling against her. Helen caught him, supporting his weight. As he straightened, the towel around his waist came loose, falling to the floor, and Helen suddenly found herself in the arms of a naked man.
    He smelled wonderful, not feminine at all; Adrienne’s goodies took on a distinctly rugged flavor in combination with his masculine flesh. His skin was smooth and fresh, like satin, with the hard base of muscle underneath it. She wanted to cling but drew back, flustered, until he reached out with his good arm and pulled her tight against him.
    Matteo’s hands slipped to her hips, and he molded her to him, shifting his position to straddle her. Helen gasped as she felt his arousal, and he groaned in response, his head dropping to her shoulder. He nudged her neck, moving his mouth inside her collar, and Helen closed her eyes as the delicious friction of his lips on her throat made her weak with longing.
    “Helen,” he muttered, caressing her through her clothes, moving his mouth to the swell of her breasts above her bra. She sighed luxuriously, running her fingers through his damp hair, trailing them to the firm column of his bare neck. He reacted swiftly, stepping back from her slightly to reach for the top button of her blouse.
    She tilted her head back to look into his face, and her movement seemed to snap him out of the drugged haze of sensuality that had enfolded both of them. He released her so suddenly that she almost fell.
    “What am I doing?” he