Mitch led Alana from the car with one arm around her back, and his other hand entwined with hers. He’d dug himself into a hole simply fighting for the opportunity to take her to the optometrist.

When Kate had begun to agree to drive Alana herself, he’d fixed her with a frown and shook his head. She stared at him in question, but didn’t say a word. Not until Alana was in the bathroom. That’s when the fangirl antics started.

“You feel obligated to help her, don’t you?”

A few tired seconds passed before he understood what the hell she was talking about.

“I watched the interview you did with Sandra Waters a few years ago. You helped resuscitate the groupie who overdosed on your tour bus.”

Mitch clenched his jaw and raised an eyebrow while she continued. This was one of the many things he hated about his celebrity status. People thought they knew him. They believed everything they read and judged him on the innumerable lies that were put to print.

“I remember your offhanded comment about always wanting to help people. You said you felt obligated to stick around until things were resolved. You mentioned you learned it from your mother, who’s a charity volunteer.”

Oh, Mitch remembered too. The whole situation had been a publicity stunt. Well, to a degree, anyway. One of their groupies had come close to permanently checking out on the bus.

Instead of leaving the media’s focus on the bad influence of musicians using drugs, they fudged the facts. With his mom being a long-serving supporter and volunteer for numerous charities, they used him as the scapegoat and turned the story around to an uplifting piece on how he saved the life of a fan.

At the time of the nationally broadcasted interview, he’d still been in shock at watching a woman almost choke to death on her own vomit. None of them was aware of the drug use. He’d been so traumatized that he repeated exactly what his PR manager suggested. In the end, it made him appear to be a man who went above and beyond to be a Good Samaritan, instead of the freak under pressure that he was.

But he couldn’t tell Kate it was a load of B.S., so he nodded.

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. For starters, he did feel obligated to help Alana. He also needed to figure out why she seemed important to him. Why he didn’t want to watch her leave. The fact that he yearned to get her naked and hear her sigh his name in pleasure came in a close third.

The optometrist’s lights glowed in the darkness of early morning, and a slim woman with gray hair walked toward the sliding doors to meet them.

“You must be Mr. Davies and Ms. Shelton. I’m Louise Pierce.”

He smiled at her. “Please call me Mitch. And this is Alana.” He would’ve offered his hand, but he had no intention of letting go of the warm bundle in his arms anytime soon.

“Nice to meet you, Mitch.” She indicated for them to move inside and locked the door behind them. “So, how are you, Alana?”

He squeezed Alana tight around the waist, offering his support.

“I’m all right. A little worried. I’m hoping the damage isn’t permanent.”

Louise strode alongside them, helping lead Alana to the back of the building. “Well, let’s take a look. You can wait out here, Mitch.”

He dropped his arms from around Alana’s body, and a sudden chill swept over him. The women walked away, heading to the first door down the hall. Muffled words brushed his ears as he inspected the display cases filled with glasses, each step bringing him closer to where Alana and Louise spoke.

“These drops will help to show any damage to your cornea. They may sting a little.”

Mitch paused, waiting for a gasp, an oath, a whimper. When nothing came, he relaxed a little, still inching further down the hall.

“Now, I’m going to turn the light off and take a look.”

He moved closer, making sure his footsteps were silent.

“Ouch. Yes, you have done a bit of damage, haven’t you?”

“What does that mean?” The panic in Alana’s voice put him on edge. Even closer than he already was. He wished he could be in there beside her, holding her hand, but that was ridiculous, right? He didn’t even know her.

“Oh, honey, it isn’t anything to be concerned about. There are scratches in both eyes, but none of them are deep enough to cause permanent damage.”

Mitch hovered at the side of the doorway.

“Are there any glass splinters in there? It feels horrible, and I can’t keep my eyes open.”

His heart ached at her discomfort, and still, he had no idea why. Those fleeting moments when he peered down at her from the stage had crawled under his skin and settled uncomfortably in his chest. He wanted to help her. Comfort her. Make love to her. And his soul demanded he do it now.

“No, there’s no debris. The pain comes from moving your eyelids over the abrasions when you open and close your eyes. It’s temporary. Corneas heal rapidly.”

The light flicked on, and Mitch slid back out of view.

“Now, I’m going to get you to wear some bandage contacts. They will cover the scratches so it doesn’t hurt to blink your eyes. They also speed up the recovery time and lessen the risk of infection.”

“All right.” Alana’s voice came soft and hesitant.

“Have you worn contacts before?”

Cupboards opened and closed, followed by the tear of cardboard and the squeak of ripped plastic.

“No. I’ve never had problems with my sight.”

“OK, rest your head back and try to keep both eyes open as long as you can…There, the first one is done…and…the second one too. You’re a pro.”

Alana chuckled. “That feels better already. Didn’t help with the sight, though.”

“No it won’t help with that at all.” A chair creaked. “You’re going to need someone to take care of you for at least a day or two. Until the damage begins to heal and you can see again.”

Deafening silence filled the air. He peeked his head around the doorframe to take another look. Alana sat in the hydraulic chair, her forehead wrinkled in concern, her eyes open and staring straight ahead. He’d almost forgotten how gorgeous those light green irises were.

Louise stopped scribbling on a piece of paper at her desk and glanced over her shoulder. “Is everything all right, honey?”

Alana shook her head and raked her fingers through the loose strands of her hair. “I’m not from Richmond, and the friend I’m staying with is working tomorrow.” She lowered her voice. “I’m not sure how I’m going to cope on my own.”

Mitch pressed a clenched fist against his mouth to hold in his offer to help. For starters, he wasn’t meant to be hovering in the doorway, and he was likely to become involved in something far from temporary if he spoke up.

“How about your boyfriend? I’m sure Mitch or one of his family members wouldn’t mind having you around for a while.”

A grin pulled at his lips when the tops of Alana’s cheeks darkened.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she whispered. “He’s…” She bit her bottom lip. “He can’t take care of me.”

Like hell he couldn’t. There was no way he could remain silent, not with her entirely vulnerable, and gorgeous to boot.

“You can stay with me.” He stepped into the middle of the doorway, and Louise turned to smile at him. Alana shook her head, and he now noticed the dark smudges of fatigue under her eyes.

“We can discuss it back at the hotel.” He reached for the piece of paper Louise held out and read the name of the eye drops he needed to arrange for the concierge to buy. “It’s already past three o’clock. We need sleep.”

Alana rubbed her eyelids and began to stand. “Thank you so much for seeing me in the middle of the night, Louise.”

Mitch rushed to grab her arm, steadying her while she stepped from the chair’s platform.

“Not a problem at all. My son was thrilled I could help one of his idols.”

“I’ll make sure the band sends him something as a thank you.” He glanced at Louise, who beamed a bright smile and led Alana from the room. He stopped at the front counter, made sure Alana was stable, and pulled out his wallet. He grabbed some bills, more than enough to cover a call out at this insane hour, and placed it down. “Thanks for everything.”

Louise glanced at the money, then back up at him, and shook her head with wide eyes.

Before she protested, he grabbed Alana’s elbow and led her into the cool spring night. The driver started the car on their approach and climbed out to open the back door.

“Everything go well, Mr. Davies?”

Mitch placed his hand on top of Alana’s head to ensure she didn’t hit her forehead when climbing into the car. “In a few days she will be back to normal.” A few days in which he planned to sate his desire for her and get the cloying need to protect a fragile stranger out of his system.

* * *

Alana’s eyes no longer burned with every brush of her eyelids, yet she still couldn’t stand to have them open. Her vision was like an out of focus image. She could distinguish light and dark and shades of color, but nothing else. Each object bled into the next, up close or far away, it didn’t matter. Nothing was clear. And it made her dizzy.

Closing her eyes, she nestled further into Mitchell’s shoulder. His arm rested behind her neck. The side of his body pressed up against hers, providing warmth and comfort. She inhaled his scent, pulled it deep into her lungs, and sighed. He was a fairytale. A handsome and strong and protective fairytale, and she wasn’t ready for it to end.

The soft, chilled leather of the back seat reminded her of cool sheets on a nice clean bed. Or maybe her thoughts were in the bedroom because of the gorgeous man beside her. She wanted to see him naked. To learn his body, to touch and stroke and claw. She wanted his lips on her mouth, not her forehead. His fingers on her breasts, not her shoulders.

A smile pulled at her lips, one of unfamiliar seduction and sexual confidence. With newly found bravery, she wrapped her arms around his waist and relaxed when he didn’t lean away. Her reality of men was warping. Everything she’d been told was being exposed as a lie with each additional minute Mitch held her close.

The dark of sleep tugged her harder, making consciousness waver. She whimpered once, twice, trying to fight the pull of slumber. There had never been a more comfortable place to rest her head, or a better fantasy to fall asleep to. Images of his smile played behind her eyelids, vivid and arousing. She relaxed into his touch as his hands moved around her back, underneath her knees, and she finally jerked to awareness.

“Shh,” he said close to her ear. “Let me carry you upstairs, and you can fall back asleep in my arms.”

His words were fuzzy and tickled her neck. She must be dreaming.

She relaxed into the pull of his arms and settled into his chest once he stood. This morning she awoke with the fear of the unknown. Tonight she would sleep with heavenly dreams of a stranger’s embrace.

“No,” she mumbled and blinked her eyes. “I have to wake up. Kate needs to drive us home, and I don’t want to be half asleep when she does.”

“You’re not leaving tonight, sweetheart.” His words were soft, yet brooked no argument. “It’s only a few hours until dawn. You already said Kate has to work today. Let her sleep, and first thing in the morning we can sort everything out.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t want to. It was only common courtesy that nudged her to leave in the first place. Better to abandon the arms of a rock star on a good note, than be remembered as the blind woman who wouldn’t let go.

She remained quiet until they reached his suite. “Please put me down.”

He squeezed her tight before letting the arm underneath her legs fall. A click sounded, then a buzz, followed by a slide of the door. His fingers came to rest on the low of her back, and he grasped her other hand, leading her forward.

“The lights are out,” he whispered. “Kate isn’t on the couch. She must be in Blake’s room.”

Alana envied her friend’s free spirit and the way she enjoyed herself with men. Kate wasn’t easy with her body, she just wasn’t afraid to share herself in the name of pleasure. More importantly, Kate loved sex.

Alana thought the whole intimacy thing was a bit of an anti-climax. Maybe things were different in a committed relationship. Over time, a man would learn a woman’s wants and desires. But at her age, she still hadn’t experience the big O with a partner.

“This is my room.”

She sucked in a breath before she could suppress her shock.

“Don’t worry.” His soft voice caused goose bumps to form over her skin. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

Sofa? Her mood changed from a frenzy of anticipation, to increasing disappointment. Anger at herself, and the way her mother had brought her up to be on the defensive around such a gentle man, bubbled low in her belly. She clenched her fists at her sides and hoped the room was dark enough for Mitchell not to notice.

Any other woman would’ve straddled him by now, or bared her breasts and laid herself out like a platter to be devoured. She needed to get over herself, over the insecurities her mother had heaped on her shoulders, and experience life for herself. Mistakes and all.

“What will I sleep in?” she asked, striving for a seductive tone. There had to be a way for her to show her interest without looking like a fool.

“Umm. Shit.” His footsteps retreated. Bright light illuminated the back of her eyelids. “I think I’ve got a spare T-shirt and boxers you can wear. That is, if you don’t mind wearing my clothes.”

At the moment, she wouldn’t mind being under his skin, let alone his clothes.

“That sounds nice.” Damn, she had no clue how to flirt. Her palms moistened, and she discreetly wiped them on her jeans.

Who was she kidding? Mitchell wouldn’t be attracted to her in her current state of disarray. Blind, scratched up, raccoon–ish eyes no doubt. She didn’t even want to think about what had happened to the light swipe of mascara she put on earlier. Definitely not one of her most appealing moments.

Oh, god, why was she even here?

“What’s wrong?” His hands grasped hers. “You’re frowning.”

She cleared the frustration from her face and smiled. “I’m tired.” And confused. And needy. And wanton.

“Do you want me to help you get dressed?”

Her nipples hardened and a spark of arousal ignited in her womb. “A little help would be nice.” She could’ve dressed by herself—she was a grown woman, after all—but the offer to have his hands on her body couldn’t be declined.

She wanted to feel all the things Kate had told her about. All the things her mother had warned her of. And she didn’t want to feel them with anyone other than Mitchell.

He released a deep breath, and she worried it came out of annoyance. Taking her hand, he led her to the foot of the bed and helped her sit. He tugged at her left boot, once, twice, then must’ve realized there was a zipper and began pulling one down, then the other.

“I like your boots.”

“You do?” She didn’t own a lot of clothes or footwear. Variety wasn’t necessary when living on her mom’s property.

“They’re sexy, without being slutty.”

She laughed, but covered her mouth to quiet the noise. “You like sexy but not slutty?”

“I’m sick of slutty. I’ve dealt with slutty for far too long.”

She gave a solemn nod. “Well, I’m definitely not the slutty type.” If only he knew to what extent. He would laugh in her face.

“I know.” He removed one boot, and the next. “I think that’s what attracted me to you in the first place.”

Her heart stuttered, chugging like a car out of gas before it took off at super speed. He ran his hands up her calves, over her knees, and she inhaled sharply when he reached her thighs.

“I like your belt, too.” He gave a soft yank on the waistband of her pants.

Her chest expanded and small doses of panic slid into her bloodstream. She was on a stranger’s bed, unable to see, and completely clueless. Holy hell, what was she supposed to do?

No. Toughen up. Live a little.

She was on a rock star’s bed, unable to see his captivating eyes and handsome smile, and, for once, she had an excuse to fumble. She should be cheering. Well, maybe not about the lack of sight, but the situation was definitely a keeper.

Before she lost confidence, she fumbled for the bottom of her shirt and yanked it over her head. Alana anticipated a compliment, nothing outlandish, just something sweet, like men always said in the movies.

Nothing came.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, in nothing but her jeans and bra, and he offered silence. Mortification weighed her down, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach to ward it off. “Can you hand me your shirt?”

Mitchell slept with glamorous women, gorgeous women, women who had a reason to be confident. She was stupid to think her figure would be anything worth complimenting. Just because she was proud of her all-natural, perky, full breasts didn’t mean he would be.

His grip released from her waistband, and she raised her chin, masking her disappointment. Light fingers trailed along her abdomen, tracing the material of her jeans, and delicately moved up to circle her belly. She bit her lip and swallowed.

Please, god, don’t let him stop.

“You have the most beautiful body.” His voice was low, a rumble of noise over her skin.

Large, warm hands ran up her ribs and hovered at the bottom of her bra. She’d never been touched so delicately—with reverence and desire. Yes, she’d had lovers, but none had bothered to treasure her.

She let her head fall back, sinking into the pleasure.

Her thighs were nudged apart, his heavy weight coming to rest in between as one hand ran between her breasts. He glided his touch to her chest, her neck, and held her jaw. His breath brushed her lips, yet he continued to hover, killing her slowly with the pain of waiting.

“You guys should close the door, unless you want people to join in.”

She gasped at the sound of another man’s voice.

Mitchell swore.

“Get outta here, Blake.” Mitchell stepped away, leaving her half-naked and vulnerable on the bed.

“The light was on. I thought I’d check on Alana. It’s not my damn fault you left the door open, you grumpy fucker.”

“I’m fine—”

The door slammed, startling the life out of her.

“Sorry. I didn’t think.” He huffed out a breath. “I didn’t even contemplate them waking up. I should’ve—”

“Only goes to show how sex-starved you are, brother.” Blake teased through the door. “Seducing a chick who can’t even see your ugly face.”

Alana pressed her lips together, holding in the laughter that wanted to break free.

“Go fuck yourself, Blake.” Mitchell’s leg leaned against hers.

“Will do.” Blake’s voice was distant. “Night, Alana.”

“Night,” she called out, smiling.

Something touched her head, and she jerked back.

“It’s my shirt.” He pulled it down over her face, and with numb limbs she lifted her arms into the holes.

What was with the clothes? Weren’t they about to… Christ, she was confused.

“I’m going to set up a bed on the sofa.”

She tilted her face in the direction of his voice and frowned. “Mitchell?” Surely he couldn’t take Blake’s comment seriously.

He ignored her. “The boxer shorts are on the bed beside you. Do you think you’re able to get them on by yourself?”

Her throat dried. She reached out her arm and felt around until she found the silk material. “Sure.”

“I’ll be back to turn out the light in a few minutes.” Without another word, he left, the soft clasp of the door announcing his departure.

Trying to ignore what happened, she stood and yanked off her jeans. She threw them to the floor, along with her socks and bra, then pulled on his boxers. The clothes were way too big and smelled like him, alluring and masculine, and way too annoying when she knew he wouldn’t be sleeping anywhere near her.

She was sitting back on the corner of the bed when a light rap came at the door.

“I’m decent.” Although she didn’t want to be.

The door opened, and she clasped her hands in her lap, her eyes still closed. She waited for her confidence to build, for her opportunity to ask him to stay or even to lie beside her for a little while. She refused to be remembered as the woman who made the famous rock star sleep on the sofa.

“All right, I’ll turn off the light so you can go to sleep.”

“There’s no need to sleep on the sofa. I’m sure the bed is big enough for both of us.”

The door latch clicked.

“We’re both tired, Allie. Your eyes need rest to recover, and I don’t want to risk disturbing you.”

Brushed. Off.

She’d never played the needy card before. Unfortunately, tonight she had the best hand. “But what if I need something before morning? What if I wake up and have to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water?”

Silence.

“I don’t want to yell out and wake everyone.”

He cleared his throat. “I can sleep on the floor in here, then.”

“No.” She shook her head with a huff. “You can sleep in the bed. If you’re worried about me groping you, or sniffing your hair during the night, you can rest assured I’ll stay on my side.”

He laughed, long and loud, the sound growing closer with each passing second. His weight came back between her thighs, his breath back on her skin.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” His fingers ran through her hair, and she leaned into his caress. “You’re probably still in shock. And Blake’s right. You don’t know me, can’t even see me. I don’t want you to regret anything when you wake up.”

“Nothing needs to happen.” She found the sides of his thighs and moved her hands up to rest at his waist. “Just sleep.”

His lips brushed her cheek. “If I stay, you can rest assured I won’t get a lick of sleep because all I want to do is grope you and sniff your hair.”