Fallen Angels: Beguiled / Wanton / Uncovered. Lori Foster

too fast and too hard, and suddenly she was tired. He’d invaded her life, her emotions. She’d had such a simple plan, and she’d thought for a while it might work. Then he’d held Grayson, and he’d kissed her and taken off his shirt and bought her disposable diapers and lotion and she just couldn’t take it all in. She didn’t have it in her to continue fighting him, at least, not right now. “Derek, please. Let off a little. You’re here. You’ve met your son. My apartment is stuffed with new purchases. Isn’t that enough for now?”

      “I have a lot to make up for.”

      She certainly wouldn’t argue that point with him. “Well, let’s save it for another time, okay? Right now, I’m exhausted. I worked really late last night finishing up some papers that were due this morning and Grayson still wakes up during the night to be fed. If you’ll take yourself out of here, I’d like a nap.”

      “What papers?”

      With barely veiled impatience, she explained once again. “I transcribe files or notes for the local offices when one of the secretaries is ill, and I do term papers and such for students at the college. I’m sure you remember I have top-of-the-line office equipment, even if my computer is getting a little dated.”

      “You don’t have to continue working. I can give you money.”

      Just like that, he expected her to become totally dependent on him. She wanted to get up and smack him, and she wanted to cry. Neither would have brought about the results she needed. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

      He stood there, obviously undecided, and she waited. But he only smiled, his look rueful. “Come on, I’ll help you into bed.”

      Panic edged into her weariness. She didn’t want him touching her again, getting so close. He’d kissed her, and that brief touch had unnerved her, had made her belly tingle. When he’d taken off his shirt, she’d almost groaned. He’d been her first lover, her only lover. And she’d never found fault with his physique. Though their single night together hadn’t been great, she knew a lot of the blame was due to her own uncertainty. And now, she missed so much the closeness of being with a man, not necessarily sexually, but with gentleness and concern, a special friendship between two people who know they’re destined to be lovers. Or who have been lovers in the past. The intimacy was there for her, whether she despised him or not.

      But despising him was no longer an issue. He was too damn different.

      “No thank you,” she muttered, shaken by her own revelations, afraid of her own weaknesses. But true to form, he wasn’t listening and had her pulled up close to his side before she could move away. With one hard muscled arm around her waist, the other holding her elbow, he practically carried her into her room. She could feel his heat, his strength, and it felt too good to be coddled, to have some of the burden lifted, even if in a superficial way.

      Closing her eyes didn’t help, only made her more aware of the shifting of muscle, the hardness of his body, his incredible heat and enticing scent. The man even smelled different, more welcoming, more comforting. More exciting.

      Her bedroom door had been shut until now and when Derek stepped inside he paused to look around. She pulled away from him, her hands shaking, and he took her elbow to assist her to the bed. Her hobbling gait embarrassed her.

      “Really, Derek. How do you think I ever managed when you weren’t around?”

      Her sarcasm was wasted, judging by his frown. “I’ve been wondering about that myself.” He lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled the sheet and blankets over her. “Are you comfortable?”

      With him looming over her while she rested in a bed? His shoulders looked hard, his chest broad. When she’d glimpsed him with his shirt off earlier, she’d noticed the remains of a tan. He’d been in warm weather recently, sunning himself.

      His hair hung over his forehead, soft and silky dark and a tracing of beard shadow was showing on his face. No, she was far from comfortable. “I’m fine.”

      “This is a pretty room. It…suits you.”

      The things he said seemed so strange, as if another man had taken over his body. Derek had never before commented on furniture or even noticed it as far as she could tell. Her belongings were nice, but they weren’t picked by an interior decorator as his had been.

      Still, they were hers, and she loved them. She’d hated to spend so much of her dwindled savings on movers when she’d left her old place, but she’d been unable to do the work herself, had no friends to call on, and she refused to live on someone else’s furniture.

      Besides, the familiar objects gave her comfort, as if her entire life hadn’t been reorganized by the vengeful hand of fate.

      Unable to help herself, she said, “The bed is new.”

      “Oh?” He looked it over, but she could tell he hadn’t realized it.

      “I thought about burning the other one, sort of as an exorcism given the hideous memories attached to it, but that seemed wasteful in my financial predicament, regardless of the sentiments attached.” She propped a pillow behind her head and smiled at him, enjoying his scowl and the two spots of hot color high on his lean cheekbones. “I sold it instead. Cheap.”

      Like an animal of prey moving in, Derek slowly approached the bed and leaned over her, his eyes never leaving hers. He braced an arm on either side of her head and lowered his face until only inches separated them. Angel pressed back into her pillow and held her breath.

      His voice was low and rough, compelling. “You keep pushing me, honey, practically daring me with those big green eyes of yours.”

      He looked away from her eyes to her mouth, and she bit her lip. “Derek…”

      “Shh.” His lips brushed hers, light, teasing. “I told you I’d never hurt you again. You can believe it. Besides, it’s too soon for much, but not for this.”

      That was all the warning she got before his mouth settled warmly over her own, devouring. Angel gasped, clasping the soft blanket next to her hips, tightening her fists to keep from kissing him back. But it was impossible. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. Surely it hadn’t been like this before or she’d have remembered.

      Heat exploded, radiating out to her arms and legs in tingling waves; behind her closed eyes, tiny sparks ignited. She squirmed—then felt his tongue at the same time he groaned, giving her the sound, letting her feel it deep inside herself. Wet, warm, he shifted for a better angle and she leaned up to him, anxious for more.

      It seemed an eternity before the kiss ended, before Derek was slowly pulling away, taking small, nibbling, apologetic kisses along the way. He breathed hard, but when he lifted his head, there was a gentle smile on his mouth.

      Angel didn’t trust herself to speak.

      “Don’t look like that,” he chided.

      “Like…like what?”

      “Like you’re afraid, and sorry.” His thumb rubbed the corner of her mouth. “One way or another, everything really is going to be okay.”

      Reality intruded. “Derek, swear to me you won’t tell anyone about Grayson.”

      “You’ll believe me?”

      Tears filled her eyes. “Do I have a choice? I don’t want to run again. I don’t—”

      “Again?”

      He had her rattled, that was the only reason she’d made such a slipup. Shaking her head, she said, “If you tell your family about Grayson, I’ll go.”

      His large warm hand cupped her cheek. “I won’t let them bother you, and I won’t let you go.”

      She was afraid they were already bothering her, because she couldn’t think of another single enemy she could have. Why they would want to hurt her, she couldn’t guess. Unless they knew of Grayson and were afraid she’d come to Derek