Chapter Seven
He woke with a start, his hand immediately feeling the empty space beside him. Sitting up, he scanned the room, but Angel wasn’t there. He swung his legs over the bed and wiped the sleep from his eyes before he stood, adjusting the jeans he still wore from the night before. Striding from the room, he made his way down the hallway into the open living area and spotted Angel at the kitchen island scribbling a note.
He leaned against the large archway that separated the two rooms. “Are you making a to-do list for the day?” he asked quietly, although he assumed she was writing him a goodbye note.
She looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes. Her face turned bright crimson.
“You’re blushing again,” he said softly. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a woman blush so much.
The color on her cheeks only deepened. “I…I was just trying to thank you.”
He started toward her. “You seem nervous. Are you okay?”
She blushed even more and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You make me nervous.”
Her innocence drove him wild. He stopped walking. “How so?”
“You’re just so…well…you know…” she said, motioning to his body.
He smiled. “No, I don’t know.”
“Unforgettable,” she blurted. Then she motioned to herself. “While I’m as forgettable as they come.”
More than anything, he wanted to grab her, tear the clothes from her sleek body, and show her just how unforgettable she truly was. His shoulders tensed with restraint as he started toward her again. “Actually, Angel, I’ve not been able to get you out of my mind since I first laid eyes on you.”
She backed up against the fridge. Once again, she tucked her chin to her chest. Her shoulders tensed around her ears as if she expected him to strike her. He stopped in his tracks. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, reaching out a calming hand.
She nodded and swallowed hard. “I know. I can’t help it. I know you don’t mean to, but you make me nervous.”
He held her gaze a moment longer. He wanted to go to her, to be near her, but he didn’t want her to be afraid of him. She seemed to be afraid most of the time. Forcing the tension from his body, he took on an easy stance and moved to the other side of the room and started making coffee. “Stay for breakfast. I’ll make you French toast. It’s impossible to be nervous while eating French toast.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I have some things to figure out, and I have to work tonight and—”
“And we have some things to discuss,” he said, interrupting. “Anyway,” he continued, his lips curved in a slight smile, “you have no choice. You can’t get out of here without my code.”
Her big, beautiful eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Was that supposed to make me feel better, knowing that I’m trapped here?”
“No, it was supposed to demonstrate that I will always tell you the truth. I may be many things, but I’m not a liar. When I tell you I won’t hurt you, I mean it. When I tell you I will protect you, that means you can count on me to keep you safe. When I tell you, that I’ve been unable to think of anything but you for days, despite even my own wishes, it’s because it’s true. You will always get the truth from me, Angel. That’s the one thing I ask from you—honesty. Can you give me that?”
She nodded but remained quiet. At length, her cheeks took on a pink hue, and she asked, “Have you really been thinking about me?”
He crossed back to her side with a full cup of coffee in hand. “I hope you like it black. I have no cream or sugar. And, yes, I really have been thinking about you.”
Her smile widened. She accepted the mug. Holding it in both hands, she brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply. “Black is the only way to drink coffee,” she said, hiding her face behind the mug. “I had a roommate for a brief while who always said he liked his coffee like a candy bar, rich and sweet. But once when he was making the morning coffee he smelled the grounds and said, ‘Wouldn’t it be great if coffee tasted the way it smelled?’ I pointed out if he didn’t add all that stuff to it that it would.” She laughed nervously. “Sorry,” she said, shifting her gaze to the floor. “I’m talking too much.”
Her trip down memory lane had renewed the tension in his shoulders. “Talk all you want. I like listening, but last night you said you didn’t have a roommate.” He couldn’t handle the idea of another man living with his Angel.
When had she become his Angel?
“I don’t. I was just talking about my friend, Matty, from work. His boyfriend kicked him out, so I let him crash on my couch for a few weeks.”
Ethan relaxed and took a long sip of coffee. “So, you don’t have another roommate?”
She shook her head. “No, I prefer to live alone.”
“And you said last night that you don’t have any family.”
She nodded but didn’t offer any more information. Ethan wasn’t going to press her, knowing whatever her story was, it was bound to be tragic. At that moment, he wanted to make her feel at ease. Still, he needed a few questions answered before things went any farther. “How long have you been on your own?”
“Since I was sixteen,” she replied.
“How old are you now?” he asked. She looked so young. He’d been worrying that she wasn’t even legal.
“Twenty-one.”
He smiled. “Good.”
∞∞∞
Angel put her half-finished coffee on the counter. “Listen, Ethan, I really have to go.” He stood, leaning against the counter with capable ease. She eyed his washboard stomach and wide chest. A thin silver chain and small cross hung around his neck, and he wore a pair of worn jeans, slung low on his hips. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing at the sight of him. Her palms were sweating so much, she worried she was going to drop her coffee. She had to get out of there before she said or did something stupid.
“Give me a minute,” he said before he disappeared back down the hallway.
She crossed to the large picture window, which looked out onto the Common, and tried to steady her breathing. A few minutes later, he came back into the room wearing a plain white t-shirt and work boots. Her heart started to race again at the sight of him, his strength, his stunning blue eyes, his sideways smile that made her insides melt. She turned away and gazed out the window. “With a view like this, you can almost feel like you’re escaping the city,” she said, trying to appear unaffected by his presence.
“You’re not a city girl?”
Her stomach fluttered. He was standing right behind her. When he spoke, she had felt his warm breath on her neck, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
She swallowed hard. “Actually, I was born and raised in Manhattan.”
“Really?” The surprise in his voice forced her to turn and meet his gaze.
“I’m from New York, too. Did you come here when you lost your family?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to speak. Her heart thumped her chest so hard, she worried he could hear it pound.
“Me too,” he said, his voice low. Then he stepped even closer. She resisted the urge to press her hands on his broad chest. She felt this pull to him, this unbreakable connection.
He continued to hold her gaze, his breathtaking eyes searing a pathway to her soul. Then suddenly his brow furrowed with concern. “Why do you want to escape the city? Are you in trouble?”
She shook her head and took a step back, trying to regain her composure. “No, nothing like that. I just really like the country. I try to go up a few times a year. You know, stay in one of those cheap motels off 95.” She looked around his place. “Not that you know what I’m talking about. I’m sure you don’t frequent roadside motels.”
“I know more about cheap motels than you think.” He grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. Then he crossed to a closet and opened the door and grabbed one of several helmets. “It will be big, but it’ll work,” he said as he set a black helmet on a nearby table. Then he reached for his black leather jacket and held it open for her to put on.
She shook her head. “I’ll be okay. I’m not cold.”
“It’s for safety.” Then he flashed her a smile that made her knees weak. “You have to dress for the slide, not the ride.”
She smiled shyly as she put her arm in the sleeve. He pulled the worn leather over her shoulders. His smell surrounded her. She had to resist bringing the sleeve to her nose, though she longed to inhale his masculine scent. His jacket had been in the closet. Still, she would have sworn she could feel heat from his body pour off the leather. The sleeves dangled well past her fingers, and the bottom hem skimmed the middle of her thighs.
A slight smile tugged at one side of his lips as he looked down at her. Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Come on,” he said, grabbing the helmet. “I’ll drive you home.”
While they rode through the city, Angel couldn’t help but wish she didn’t have to wear the big helmet. She preferred the feel of the wind whipping through her hair. And more than anything, she wanted to rest her cheek against Ethan’s strong back. Still, his insistence about her safety flooded her heart with warmth. So, too, did the memory of his tenderness with her the night before. Not only had he saved her, he had taken care of her, soothed her, put her to bed.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of her.
Beneath the cover of her helmet’s visor, she smiled freely, feeling safe and wanted for the first time in so many years.
But when they arrived at her rundown apartment, her smile faltered. She felt self-conscious as she led him up the cement front stairs and opened the entryway door.
“Wait,” he said abruptly behind her, causing her to jump. “Doesn’t this door stay locked?”
She let her shoulders relax. “It’s supposed to, but the lock broke and the super hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet.”
A flash of anger crossed his face. “We’ll have to remedy that.”
She didn’t want to tell him that he would be wasting his time. She had called the super three times just that month to get the lock on the door fixed, and each time he blew her off.
“What floor are you on?” he asked, taking her hand.
“The second.”
He led the way, keeping her just behind him. She stared up at his strong, wide shoulders and felt a wave of security pass over her.
She hadn’t felt safe since she was sixteen.
Suddenly, he paused, his shoulders visibly tense. “Someone is coming down,” he said.
She listened to the shuffling footfalls on the stairs and smiled. “It’s just Mrs. T.”
A moment later, an old woman dressed in a beaded gown appeared on the landing. Her dyed jet-black hair was adorned with a large, bright pink flower that matched her lipstick.
She smiled down at them, deep creases forming around her eyes. “Why, hello,” she said with a rich Southern twang.
“Hi, Mrs. T,” Angel answered.
Mrs. T’s gaze shifted quickly from Angel and slowly traveled down the full length of Ethan’s body. “Why, Angel, aren’t you going to introduce me to your fella?” she said, openly admiring Ethan.
“Ethan, this is Mrs. T. Mrs. T, this is Ethan.”
Mrs. T. gracefully arched her arm over her head. “Sixty years ago, I came up from Atlanta to dance on Broadway. I used to be a star.”
Ethan dipped his head to her. “I know,” he said.
“Oh, is that so,” Mrs. T. said coyly. “I don’t believe you. You’re too young to have heard of me.”
Ethan smiled. “You have the distinct bearing of a dancer.”
“Oh, my stars!” Mrs. T. exclaimed, her smile beaming. “You, sir, are welcome here anytime.” She waved to them as they turned the corner to the next flight of stairs.
Outside Angel’s door, Ethan took her key and opened it. Her chest tightened as she watched him stand in the center of her tiny studio apartment, taking in her entire world in one turn.
“You’ve done well with the space,” he said, approvingly. “Nice clean lines and simple colors.”
His praise brought a smile to her lips that she couldn’t contain. She turned away to hide her pleasure.
“When does your shift start?” he asked, once more drawing her gaze.
Damn, she had almost forgot about work. Once again, she was back where she started yesterday. How the hell was she going to get to work?
“3AM,” she answered brightly, hiding her distress.
He nodded. “I’ll pick you up at two.”
Despite how much she wanted to say yes, she shook her head at his offer. She couldn’t rely on him. She had to sort herself out. “Ethan, I’m grateful to you for last night, but I can’t let you do that.”
He stepped close and gently cupped her cheek in his strong hand. “Angel,” he said softly, his lips a breath from hers. “You don’t have a choice this time.”
∞∞∞
Ethan remained where he was, poised, his mouth hovering above hers as he listened to the sound of her quickening breaths. Then, like a whisper, his lips grazed hers, the barest touch. Her breath caught. Her fingers gripped his jacket. Tension filled his body as he held still, their lips so close but again not touching. He held her gaze, savoring the yearning he glimpsed in her amber eyes. Then he crushed her against him. She groaned, inviting his kiss to deepen. His tongue stroked hers. She tasted clean and warm. She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her body melding to his, hungry, soft, and achingly vulnerable.
He pulled away and stared down at her wet, parted lips. Her pulse throbbed at her neck. His heart pounded in his chest. Her lips, her embrace, the feel of her body trembling nervously and wantonly in his arms—he had kissed more women than he could ever count or remember, but never had a simple kiss stirred him so deeply. His hands followed the sleek contours of her waist and smoothed over her slim hips. He never wanted to let her go.
Well, damn…there was a first for everything.
He forced himself to step away, still holding her gaze. “I’ll see you at two,” he said, his voice low and husky. Then he opened her door. “Lock this when I leave.”