pure instinct. His hand smoothed over her bottom, pulling her even closer, rocking her against him. Her leg protested, but she ignored it, an easy thing to do when his scent, his strength, filled her.
“How long has it been, Angel?”
She clutched his shoulders, her head back, her eyes closed, as he kneaded her breast with one hand, and kept her pelvis close with the other. Surely he knew as well as she did, so she merely said, “A long time.”
“And you’ve missed me?” He nibbled her earlobe, then dipped his tongue inside. “Why didn’t you call?”
Even in the sensual fog, she saw the trap. “After the way you acted last time?” She was astounded he would even ask such a thing!
He hesitated, then asked, “How exactly did you expect me to act?”
She stiffened as she pulled back. “Not like you couldn’t have cared less! And after the way you’d betrayed my trust! You got me fired, you—”
“Shhh.” He kissed her again, lingering, and his hand started a leisurely path down her body, measuring her waist, which thankfully was slim again, then roving over her hip. Her thoughts, her anger, turned to mush. She caught her breath with each inch he advanced. His fingers curled on her thigh, bunching her skirt, then moved upward again, this time underneath, touching against her leggings. He cupped her, startling her, shocking her actually. But she didn’t move and neither did he. She tried to remind herself that this was what she’d hoped for, but it wasn’t true. She’d stupidly hoped for so much more.
His fingers felt hot even through her clothes, but he was still, just holding her, watching her again. “Why now, Angel? Why this secret arrangement?”
She decided a partial truth would serve. “There’s been no one but you.”
“And you needed a man, so it had to be me?”
“Yes.” That was true, too. She didn’t know who to trust, who to fear, so for what she needed, no one else would serve. But she hadn’t planned on her own honest participation. Her body reacted independently of her mind; she felt shamed by her response to a man she should have loathed, but overriding that was some inescapable need, swamping her, causing her whole body to tremble. Maybe the pregnancy had altered her hormones or something, but she’d never in her life felt like this, and it was wonderful.
She pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body felt tightly strung, waiting, anticipating. She dredged up thoughts of the past, of all the reasons she had to despise him, why his touch could never matter…
He seemed a bit stunned as she moaned softly and her fingers dug into his upper arms. He held her close, his own breathing harsh while his mouth moved gently on her temple. In all her imaginings, she had never envisioned this scenario, allowing him to touch her there, with her half-leaning on his damn desk, her face tucked into his throat. His heartbeat drummed madly against her own, and she grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away. “Derek, no.”
Her voice shook with mortification, freezing him for an instant.
“Shhh.” He dropped her skirt back into place and softly rocked her, soothing her. She bit her lip to keep her tears from falling, but even now she was painfully aware of his scent, his warmth. And the delicious, unexpected feelings didn’t leave now that his touch was removed, they only quieted a bit.
She put one hand on his chest and lifted her face. He didn’t smile, didn’t ask questions. She couldn’t quite look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what came over me.”
“Am I complaining?”
She shook her head. No, he looked pleased, but not really smug. Not as she’d expected. “That’s never happened before. I don’t understand.”
“What’s never happened?”
“Between you and me. Usually everything was just so…controlled. And uncomfortable. I’ve never felt…”
His face darkened, and she hastened to explain. “I don’t mean to insult you, but Derek, you know yourself that sex between us was…well, you seemed to like it okay, but I was a little disappointed. Not…not that it was all your fault. It’s just that I didn’t…it wasn’t…”
He smoothed her hair, his jaw tight. He seemed undecided about something, and then suddenly he clasped her waist and lifted her off her feet. He sat her on the edge of the desk, roughly spreading her thighs and stepping between them in the same movement. Pain shot through her and she gasped, curling forward, her hand reaching for her leg, wanting to rub away the sharp pounding ache. Her breath had left her and her free hand curled into his biceps, gripping him painfully. Derek froze, then growled, “What the hell?”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, but God, it hurt, and with more gentleness than she knew he possessed, Derek lifted her into his arms and headed for the leather couch.
Nothing was going right. “Derek, put me down.”
“You’re as white as a sheet.” He looked down on her as he lowered her to the sofa cushions, and she flinched at the anger in his eyes. “I noticed you were limping a little when you came in, but I didn’t realize you were hurt.”
“I’m not,” she protested, the issue of her leg meant for another day. “Really, I’ll just…”
“You’ll just keep your butt put and tell me what’s wrong. Is it your hip? Your leg?”
Before she could answer he reached beneath her long skirt and caught at her leggings, hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging downward. “Derek!”
With his hands still under her skirt, his eyes locked on hers, he said, “After what we just came close to doing, you’re shocked?”
Flustered was more apt, and appalled and embarrassed and…“Derek, please.” But already he had her tights pulled down to her knees. She felt horribly exposed and vulnerable. He explored her thighs, being very thorough, and it was more than she could bear. “It’s my lower leg,” she snapped. “I broke it some time back and it’s still a little sore on occasion. That’s all.”
He stared at her, and she had the feeling he didn’t believe a single word she’d said. “Let me get your shoes off.”
She sat up and pushed at his hands. “I don’t want my shoes off, dammit!”
“At the moment, I don’t care what you want.” And her laced-up, ankle-high shoes came off in rapid order, then her tights. As he looked at her leg, at the angry scars still there, his jaw tightened. “Damn.”
Angel bristled, her only defense at being so exposed. “It’s ugly, I know. If it bothers you, don’t look at it.”
One large hand wrapped around her ankle, keeping her still, and the other carefully touched the vivid marks left behind by the break and the subsequent surgery. “A compound fracture?”
“So you’re a doctor now?”
He ignored her provocation. “This is where the break was, and this is where they inserted a rod.” His gaze swung back up to her face, accusing.
Disgruntled, but seeing no way out of her present predicament, she
