It was late in the evening, and even though Drake had clearly told her he didn’t know when he’d be home, she hadn’t expected him to be this late. At nine, she curled up on the couch, completely nude, because she wanted to wait up for him, no matter how late he came home, and though he hadn’t given her any instructions on how to be when he arrived or even that she was to wait up on him, she wanted him to come home to her. For him to know he mattered, that his needs mattered and that she wanted to please him. Wanted to see the warm approval in his eyes that she’d grown to crave so much that at times it frightened her.

She wasn’t aware of what time she drifted off, only that when she sleepily opened her eyes, Drake was standing in front of the couch, his gaze burning over her naked skin.

She immediately smiled, though she was still blinking away the vestiges of sleep from her eyes, and his face softened as he leaned down to kiss her long and so very sweet.

“You didn’t have to wait up on me, Angel, but I’m very glad you did.”

“I would never not wait up on you, Drake,” she said in a serious voice. “I wanted you to come home and for the first thing that you saw to be me, waiting for you. I’m only sorry I fell asleep.”

He put a finger to her lips. “Shh, my darling. It’s nearly eleven. There is no need to apologize for falling asleep. I didn’t call this time because I worried I would wake you.”

She pushed herself upward instead of remaining sprawled indelicately on the couch.

“How was your day? It sounded as though you were busy and you look tired, Drake. You don’t get enough rest.”

He smiled. “My angel worries about me and wants to take care of me. No one has ever taken care of me, or wanted to, for that matter.”

His smile was faint, followed by a brief shadow of pain and . . . need. No matter that this man enjoyed taking care of her, it was obvious that he too needed that same care, whether or not he would ever admit to something he’d likely construe as a shortcoming in himself.

He would just have to get over it because she had no intention of taking without reciprocating in any way she could. His happiness had become important to her, and she couldn’t even pinpoint when it had become so. But just as he pampered her, cherished her and lavished his loving care upon her, she would return the favor in full measure.

She frowned. “You have someone now who wants to and will take care of you in every way I can. I want to make you happy, Drake, and not just because I cede power to you and submit to you. I intend to make you feel as loved as you make me feel.”

He looked shaken by her straightforward statement, as if he had never come across such a situation before and wasn’t at all certain how to react. But his eyes said it all. They glowed with warm pleasure and contentment. He looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world—his world.

He extended his hand to help her from the couch and pulled her up and against him so she was molded to his body. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lingeringly, taking his time and tasting every inch of her mouth, inside and out.

“I have something for you,” he said in a husky, passion-laced voice.

The warm glow that had surrounded her, drowning her in the silent exchange between them and the look of wonder in his eyes, evaporated instantly. Dread and disappointment replaced her excitement over his coming home, and she immediately tensed.

He frowned at her reaction but didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled a small box from his pocket and placed it into her hand.

“Open it,” he said.

Her fingers were trembling, something he might construe as excitement or anticipation, but it was neither. She didn’t want to open the damn box. It somehow cheapened what she considered a deep emotional bond established with the few words they’d exchanged and turned the entire evening into something else entirely.

She didn’t want to see what was inside. All she wanted was him, for him to take her to bed so she could do exactly as she’d vowed and for once take care of him after a long day of work. Was that so hard for him to understand? Had no one ever wanted him, the man, Drake Donovan? And not what he possessed and the cavalier way he tossed trinkets her way on a daily basis?

But she dutifully opened the box and discovered a necklace to match the huge earrings he’d given her already. The very thing she’d predicted, though at the time it had been a sarcastic thought. She hadn’t really thought he’d go that far. But she should have known better.

She gasped when she caught a full view of the diamond necklace. It was huge. Bigger than both earrings put together! It was a teardrop diamond pendant the size of his thumb!

Something inside her snapped and she lashed out, her disappointment too keen to hide.

“This has to stop, Drake! Enough! Every day you give me some outrageously expensive gift, and today this makes the second. I don’t want your gifts. I want you. Can’t you understand that? Don’t you know me better than that by now?”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she was shaking with anger and disappointment.

“I don’t want them,” she raged. “I don’t even know what to do with the first couple you bought me. What on earth am I supposed to do with the rest?”

Drake’s expression turned to one of fury, but she was too angry to recognize the line she’d just crossed.

He swore violently and colorfully, turning away for a long moment, his back to her, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. Then he whirled back around, his eyes nearly black with rage.

“Why the hell do you have to make such a fucking big deal out of everything I give you?” he snapped. “It’s not just the jewelry. You looked like you were on your way to death row when I bought you clothing. You’ve objected at every turn when I buy you anything, and you damn well knew the rules going in, so you can’t plead ignorance. Do you even consider how that makes me feel? It’s not just a rejection of a physical object. It’s a rejection of me and my desire to spoil and pamper you and make you feel like the very special woman you are.”

She went soft to her very soul, and she’d never felt more ashamed of herself than in this moment. Oh God, she’d never even considered that he would consider it a rejection of him when all she wanted was him. Not diamonds, jewels, expensive clothing, credit cards and unlimited funds. She’d made a complete and utter mess of this, all because she’d let her insecurities get the better of her and couldn’t fathom why Drake had chosen her. He called her special, but she wasn’t! Except . . . he thought she was and she didn’t believe him. Which meant she’d shown him the utmost disrespect by not having faith in him. She was clearly telling him that she didn’t trust him, when nothing could be further from the truth.

She went to him immediately, closing the distance between them and wrapping herself around his huge body, ignoring his rigidity and the fact that he didn’t return her embrace.

“Oh, Drake, I’m so very sorry,” she said, her heart breaking into jagged, painful pieces that left her utterly bereft over hurting him. “I never meant to make you feel that way. You just don’t understand how hard it is for a girl like me . . .” She broke off and closed her eyes but not before Drake saw the fleeting hint of despair shining like a beacon.

Despite Drake’s anger, he cupped her chin, caressing her cheek with his thumb, because something else was going on here and he’d jumped to what appeared to be very errant conclusions.

“Angel, open your eyes and look at me,” he said in a firm voice.

When she finally complied, he saw the tears that threatened to fall from her glossy eyes.

“What the hell do you mean I don’t understand how hard it is for a girl like you? What kind of girl are you referring to?”

She flushed and would have closed her eyes again but he gave a warning tap to her cheek with his thumb, commanding her attention.

“I’ve never had anything,” she said in a low tone. “Except my parents’ love. My friends’ love. Their support. I’ve worked for everything else I’ve ever had, and granted it’s not much, but it’s mine. It was earned and I take a certain amount of pride in that. A girl like me has to work for what she gets because there aren’t a lot of men out there lining up for a boring, quiet, mousy girl who doesn’t need or want things. I just feel like you give me so much and I give you nothing in return.”

She was becoming perilously close to those tears falling, and he could feel her distress radiating from her in waves.

“The gifts are beautiful. Very precious to me. I love each and every one of them. I’m scared to death to wear the jewelry because what if I lose it? But at the same time, every gift is a reminder of how much you give to me and how little I give you in return.”

Now she was openly crying, tears sliding silently down her cheeks and colliding with his thumbs.

“All I’ve ever had to sustain me before was my sense of self-worth,” she said in a choked, emotion-filled voice. “You can’t put a price tag on self-worth. And right now, I don’t feel worth much at all and I hate that feeling. It’s a helpless feeling, and God, there’s nothing worse than feeling—being—helpless. You have so much pride, Drake. Surely you understand what I’m trying to say.”

She was coming far too close to begging for his liking. The desperation in her voice seared him to the depths of his soul.

Her impassioned outburst struck a chord deep within him. He marveled at the fact that in all the relationships or rather short acquaintances he’d entertained, never once had a woman taken issue with anything he chose to give her. In fact, there were many times the woman pouted ever so prettily that the earrings were beautiful but without a necklace to complement them the look just wasn’t as breathtaking.

Never had he had a woman stand before him and speak of the one thing he was very well acquainted with. Pride. Self-worth. Of not accepting anything from anyone and earning every damn thing he possessed. And yet he’d reduced her to that by showering lavish gifts on her, as though he could buy her affection, her smile, her happiness when in fact, when he thought back on it, the brightest smiles he could remember seeing were when she saw him after a long day at work, how happy she seemed to be when he chose to stay in and allowed her to cook on the rare occasions they didn’t go out. Nothing he had bought her had come close to the kind of joy and contentment he’d seen in her eyes and on her face that simply being with him seemed to give her. Was she for real? It utterly bewildered him, and for the first time in his life, he had no idea how to handle a woman. This woman. And it made him feel helpless, like a first-class fuckup.

“You’re wrong when you say you have nothing to give me,” he said gruffly, still grappling with revelations still swirling in his mind. “But I do understand, Angel. I understand only all too well.”

Suddenly the distance between them was too much. Not just the physical distance but the emotional distance as well. He’d made so many mistakes with her. And even knowing she wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever met, he’d still treated her the same. Lavishing expensive gifts on her instead of providing the things that really mattered to her. Even knowing the priceless treasure he possessed and that she was unique and rare, he hadn’t made the effort to truly learn her.

He held out his arms, holding his breath and hoping she didn’t refuse him. “Come here, Angel. I refuse to have this conversation when you look tired on your feet and all I want to do is hold you.”

He exhaled a long sigh of relief when after only a slight hesitation, she walked into his arms. He wrapped them around her and for a long moment he simply held her, closing his eyes as he buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair.

Then he maneuvered her to the sofa and sat, pulling her down into his lap, once more wrapping his arms tightly around her. Her slight frame nestled perfectly against his. As if she’d been made for him and only him. Two pieces of a puzzle.

So fucking perfect. Soft, warm. So loving and generous. She was a shining light in the darkest recesses of his tarnished soul. A welcome-home gift—treasure—every time he walked through his door.

“First I want to address the issue of equality and what you can contribute to make you feel as though you give me something in return for what I give you. Though, babe, if all you ever gave me were you, I’d spend the rest of my life trying to catch up, because nothing and I mean nothing I give you will ever be more precious than you giving yourself to me. You can’t put a price tag on something that is priceless and worth more than all the money in the world.”

He felt her smile against his chest, and he caressed the length of her hair, resting his chin atop her head, marveling at the contentment he felt over such a simple act.

“You’re an excellent cook and you said yourself you love cooking. At first, I didn’t like the idea of you cooking for me when I came home because as I told you that very first night, I never meant for you to be a domestic slave.”

She leaned away from his chest so she could look at him, mischief in her eyes. “Just a sex slave,” she teased.

He relaxed, relief surging through his veins because she was no longer tense, nor did she seem angry.

He smacked her playfully on the behind but left his palm there, cupping the soft plumpness of her ass.

“Damn right,” he said with no remorse whatsoever. “But I took something away from you that I shouldn’t have. I made you feel as though you contributed nothing to our relationship. You enjoyed cooking for me and you were happy that I loved your meal. Hell, I even loved those fucking cupcakes and you had every single one of my men eating out of your hand so they’d get one too. If someone had told me a month ago that the men who work for me would eagerly be lining up for a cupcake made by an angel, I would have laughed myself stupid.”

She blushed but her eyes were shining in delight, the corners of her mouth tilted upward into that delectable quirky half smile that was so characteristic of her. Some might consider it a fault, but Drake found it endearing. Even now, he paused to drop his head and nibble at the corner of her mouth, running his tongue over that delicious little quirk. She shivered against him in response and his entire body tightened. So fucking responsive. He’d thought it, said it, too many times to count since she’d barged into his life, or, if he was honest, since he’d dragged her into his life.

She lit up for him. Him. Only him. Hell, she’d been around his men, his brothers, all men most bitches couldn’t keep their hands off of, and yet Evangeline smiled at them, was affectionate with them all, much to their disgruntlement and bewilderment, but in no way could her actions or responses ever be construed as sensual. She wasn’t a flirt. She was too damn honest, not to mention too innocent to even know how. If she liked you, she was nice to you and she let you know she liked you. It was as simple as that. And apparently she’d decided that she liked all his brothers. Men would die to have a woman go up in flames the instant they looked at her in a certain way. Or touched her, kissed her, whispered the right words. He had such a woman right here on his lap and in his arms. In his bed every night, offering her complete submission as sweetly as a woman ever had, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to fuck up and lose her.

He nearly shook his head. Compromise. Not a word in his vocabulary. But when it came to Evangeline, he was fast learning new words and most certainly their definition.

“I love your cooking,” he said. “Best fucking meals I’ve eaten in my life.”

And they were. He might do a lot to keep a woman like Evangeline, but he wasn’t a liar. Not even to make her feel better or to appease her would he lie. She valued self-worth most of all. How hollow would that self-worth be if it was built on lies he’d told her?

Her eyes glowed with pleasure, her entire face lit up with radiance to rival the sun, her cheeks growing rosier by the second. She looked at him as if he’d just saved her from a burning building, for fuck’s sake. It didn’t take much to please this woman at all, and here he’d been throwing tens of thousands of dollars at her when apparently all she truly wanted was . . . him.

He couldn’t comprehend it, but the proof was here, looking him in the eyes. She wanted Drake Donovan the man. Not the wealth, power, status or prestige of being on his arm and under his protection.

His money appalled her. The gifts he gave her horrified her. Silas had informed him that she was less than thrilled to accept the cash and credit cards he’d sent over. She’d been more excited over the fucking Chinese takeout than over a credit card with no spending limit. And he’d bet his entire fortune that she hadn’t even touched the cash, much less counted it.

How did you keep a woman like his angel happy when she didn’t appear to want anything?

She only wants you.

And that he could give her. If that was all it took to make her happy, to keep her happy and to make damn sure she never walked out on him, then he’d give her exactly what she wanted.

“Once a week, same day unless it can’t be avoided, you cook for me. I’ll arrange my schedule so that I’m home no later than six. And when I say unless it can’t be avoided, Angel, I mean that nothing short of death will keep me from being here. Now that’s all I can promise,” he said in a serious voice. “You are my single most important responsibility. You gave me your trust and with that trust, you gave me yourself and you placed your faith in me that I’ll keep you happy. I take my responsibilities very seriously, and therefore I’m going to continue to spoil the hell out of you. You will not lift a finger except those nights you cook for me and you will not be washing the fucking dishes afterward. That’s what I pay a cleaning lady for. And what you can do for me is accept whatever I choose to give you and know that I give it not to take away your sense of self-worth or sharpen the divide between our net worths, but because it makes me happy. And what will make me even happier is if, as I told you the night I took you home with me for the first time, you think of creative ways of expressing your gratitude. Not be thinking of ways to pay me back and certainly not dwell on not being able to pay me back. Because that will seriously piss me the fuck off.”

She surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. She buried her face in his throat, and the soft whisper of her exhalations blew over his skin, setting fire to his every nerve ending.

“I’m sorry,” she said in an emotional voice that was muffled by his throat.

He pried her away from him and glanced sharply down at her.

“For fuck’s sake, what the hell are you sorry for?”

He knew his exasperation was showing, but hell, she was the single most infuriating, complex woman he’d ever known.

“I was—I’ve been an ungrateful bitch,” she said painfully. “And selfish. I never even considered your feelings. I was too wrapped up in my own insecurities and every time another gift showed up my panic increased. You’re right. About all of it, and I’m so very sorry, Drake.”

She lifted her hand to his jaw and caressed his cheek, the sensation like velvet, the contrast between her baby-soft skin and his much harder, life-roughened features heady and addictive. “And,” she added in a husky whisper, “you can be assured I will be very creative in my expressions of gratitude.”

He pressed a finger to her lips and sent her a look of reprimand.

“You will not speak of yourself that way. Ever. I shouldn’t even be having this conversation with you considering Silas had the same exact conversation verbatim with you, and if you don’t think I’ll allow him to turn you over his knee and spank that pretty ass if you say that kind of fucked-up shit about yourself again, then you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “He wasn’t teasing me?” she squeaked.

“Does Silas strike you as the type of man to tease?” Drake asked dryly.

“Point taken,” she muttered.

Then she glanced up at him, a gleam in her eyes that made him go instantly hard.

“What is that look for?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well . . . I did promise to be creative in the way I expressed my gratitude,” she said solemnly, though the too-innocent expression on her face told him she was anything but solemn.

“Oh you did, now didn’t you? Just how creative are you, Angel?”

She flashed a shy smile and peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. Then she reached up and twined her arms around his neck, having to stand on tiptoe to elevate her diminutive height.

She looked adorably shy and color rose in her cheeks. “I don’t want to disappoint you, Drake. Ever. And you know I have no experience except with you.”

He was inordinately pleased with her assertion that he was her only experience and that no reference at all was made to her shithead ex. He wasn’t so pleased with her statement of not wanting to disappoint him, but he didn’t interrupt her, because she was obviously struggling with what she wanted to say.

“What I would like is for you to teach me how to please you. Only you. You said the other night was for you, but in reality, it was all about me. Tonight . . .” She sucked in another breath. “Tonight, I want it to truly be all about you. I want you to have absolute control and show me how to pleasure you in any way you want. I want you to make me do whatever it is you want me to do to you—for you. And I don’t want you to hold back for fear of hurting or scaring me.”

She paused for a moment as she stared into his eyes as if gauging his reaction.

“I want you. Just you. Nothing else. Just you, your control, your dominance, the man you are, the man I know you to be. I’m not trying to change the rules, I swear. I don’t want control tonight. I only want for you to be selfish for once and to take what you need from me, however you want it, need it, like it. I just wish I knew enough not to have to ask you how to give you all that I want to give you.”

She finished in a whisper, a thread of regret in her voice.

He was shaken. He, a man who was unshakable. But her sincere plea cut to the very core and uncovered parts of his heart that had long ago been shut off, never to be opened or to bleed again. For anyone.

He framed her beautiful face in his hands, cradling it gently as he stared down into her eyes, losing all sense of himself.

“I’m glad you don’t have the experience to know all there is to know about pleasing me,” he said in a savage tone. “There is nothing more beautiful than a woman asking her man to guide her and teach her how to pleasure him. You make me feel like I’m the only man who’s ever even entered your world, Angel. You can’t imagine how that feels.”

She smiled, her eyes glowing warmly. “Then you’ll do it? You’ll take me the way you want to take me tonight? Rough, hard, long, sweet. It doesn’t matter, Drake. Because pleasing you, bringing you pleasure, gives me the same and so much more. So very much more.”

Dear God, what she was doing to him in such a short time. He was in way over his fucking head and he damn well knew it. He was helpless to keep his defenses rigid and erect around her, and God help him but he didn’t want to.

For the first time in his life, he wanted to let someone in. He just prayed that when that happened, and she saw the monster he truly was, that he wouldn’t lose the precious gift staring at him as though he were her entire world.

He looked at her sweet smile, going over every single word—gift—she’d given him. Did she know how dark his desires ran? Did she fully understand the things that aroused him sexually? Somehow, he didn’t think so. In her innocence, how could she?

He had no doubt that she was utterly sincere and here, in this moment, she would give him anything he wanted. Would do for him anything he wanted. But would she understand, or would she see his dark fantasies as a betrayal of his promise to protect her and always take care of her?

“Be very sure of what you are offering me, Angel,” he said, his tone low and serious.

“I’m sure,” she said with no hesitation.

“Then I want you to remember something, the most important thing of all, when I take what I want from you tonight. You gave me your trust, and you will need to not only remember that, but to believe in that trust—and in me.”

She didn’t look or appear frightened. There was a spark of curiosity and a delicate shiver stole over her body, as though she were imagining what he was thinking. What he wanted—would demand of her tonight.

He pulled her in closer to his body. Until nothing separated them and his arms were wrapped around her satiny, naked skin. He allowed his hands to roam down her back, cupping her buttocks and then squeezing.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, allowing her one last out. “Enough not to question anything I ask of you tonight? To follow and heed my instructions regardless of what they may be?”

She leaned her head back, determination and resolve firm in those beautiful eyes. She looped her arms loosely around his neck, but never once did she break free of his gaze.

“My gift to you is me,” she said in a sweet, soul-stirring voice that was a caress all in its own. “I am yours, Drake. I know you’ll never hurt me. I can’t promise not to ever be afraid at any point tonight, but you need to know that my fear is not of you. Never of you. If I fear anything at all, it will be the unknown. But most of all, my greatest fear will be of letting you down.”

“Then go and prepare for me,” he said in a husky voice. “Take a long bath and soak for a while. There is no hurry, as it will take me a little time to make the proper arrangements for a night my angel has promised is all mine. My fantasy. My pleasure. And know, Evangeline, that you will be repaid in full measure for the gift you are offering me tonight. I too plan to come up with very creative ways of expressing my gratitude.”

He trailed a finger down her silken cheek as their gazes remained locked.

“When you are finished bathing, dry yourself and your hair and then go lie down on the bed. Don’t pull the covers and sheets back. I want you to lie in the middle, your hair spread across the pillows, thighs parted, hands above your head with your fingers wrapped around the slats of the headboard.”

She smiled, then sighed and shook her head ruefully. “And yet again, a night that is supposed to be solely about you sounds an awful lot like I’m the one being a pampered, spoiled princess.”

He regarded her solemnly. “Have no doubt, Angel. You are my pampered princess. But tonight, I intend only to watch, and this is very much for me. Just remember your promise to trust me and know that I will never allow you to come to harm, and my night will be fucking perfect.”