He entered her room and watched her in silence. Eyes closed, pale skin, and blond hair falling over her cheek. She looked like an angel. His angel, he thought and stifled a curse. More softness he didn’t need. Focus on the job, McDermott. He eased himself to sit beside her on the bed. The mattress shifted under his weight. She rolled toward him and moaned.
The sound twisted his gut. “Are you in pain?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” Her eyes remained tightly closed, her arms wrapping the down comforter even more tightly around her body.
“I can’t give you anything except Tylenol.”
“I…took…some.” Her teeth began to chatter. “Can you turn up the heat?”
“I already did.” He’d anticipated the chills. Once the aftermath of her ordeal hit and her adrenaline levels decreased, he’d expected some reaction.
“Not…working.”
“How about a cup of hot soup?”
“Can’t sit up.”
Kane muttered a prayer for strength and slid beneath the covers. She curled into his waiting warmth. Her soft curves molded against him, and her satisfied sigh echoed in his ears. Two things hit at once. A hot, urgent desire to be inside her, and the need to protect her from further harm.
Reminding himself she needed his body heat and not him, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, the only advantage he’d take under the circumstances. “Better?” he asked.
“Much.”
Silence settled around them, seeming to bounce off the walls of her room. A sense of contentment followed. Kane fought against it.
Without trying, she wove a spell he didn’t understand, made him desire things he couldn’t have. He inhaled her fragrant scent and felt himself being pulled deeper.
“I need you.” She spoke so softly he had to strain to hear.
“I’m here now.” The only promise he was willing to make.
* * *
Bright sunlight shone through the bedroom window. Kane groaned and squinted into the glare. “Worse than a damn hangover,” he muttered, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.
As a cop used to undercover work, waking Kayla every two hours hadn’t left him irritable and beat. Lying beside her, holding her, and listening to her soft moans each time she moved did him in. The last check had been—he looked at his watch—an hour ago. She’d been light-headed but okay.
“Kayla?” He glanced over to find an empty bed and sat up fast. Throwing off the covers, he walked to the hallway bathroom. The sound of running water greeted him, and he rolled his eyes at her foolishness. What made her think she could handle a shower alone?
He tried the doorknob and it turned. At least she hadn’t locked herself inside. He opened it a sliver. “You okay in there?”
“Not really.” Her voice sounded weak.
Kane didn’t wait for permission. He barged inside. The bathroom was compact and steam floated around him. The scent of lemons hovered in the air. He ripped aside the shower curtain to find Kayla sitting on the floor of the porcelain tub, her head between her legs.
He slammed his fist against the large faucet and shut the water that had been pelting her body. “Can you lift your head?”
“Not by myself,” she said, the words muffled.
He stepped barefoot into the tub, braced his hands beneath her arms, and pulled her into a standing position. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“Taking a shower.”
“I noticed.”
Droplets of water clung to her bare skin. He had a sudden desire to lick them off one by one. Instead, he pushed her damp hair off her forehead so he could look into her eyes. He never got the chance. She collapsed, unable to stand on her own.
He swore and swung her into his arms, grabbing a towel before making his way back to the bedroom. Her wet skin soaked through the T-shirt and jeans he’d kept on the night before—more as a physical barrier to temptation than for modesty’s sake. But barriers meant little when he had Kayla naked and needy in his arms. She clung to him, her head nestled on his shoulder and her wet body snug against him for warmth.
She trusted him. Impossible, he thought. He’d given her no reason. She needed someone and he was available. “You should get dressed.” He placed her on the bed and wrapped a towel around her shaking shoulders.
“I just wanted a shower, but…” Her teeth began to chatter.
“You rushed things. Especially on an empty stomach.” He rummaged through her drawers again and pushed the most flimsy things aside. She’d need help, and he’d be wrapping a bra around her full breasts. His hands would be too close, his mouth too tempted. He settled on plain white, no frills, things that covered as much as possible. Then he picked a shirt, a man’s football jersey. He didn’t dwell on where she got it. At least it was large enough to keep him from staring. He was in too deep already.
“Here.” He walked back to the bed. She still sat huddled in a tight ball. He worked the shirt over her head. “Raise your arms.” She complied and her breasts lifted higher, her darkened nipples inches from his face.
“To serve and protect,” he muttered as a reminder.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stop mumbling. This is embarrassing enough already.” He ditched the bra. Better to get this over with.
She wiggled a bit, and the shirt fell around her generous hips.
“Think you can handle these?” He dangled a pair of briefs from his fingertips.
“Yes.” She blushed scarlet. At least her coloring looked better than before. He turned to give her some privacy. A couple of deep breaths and he had himself under control.
“Thank you, Kane.”
He turned. “No problem.”
She lay propped back against the pillows. Soft hair fell around her face. A yearning gripped his insides hard.
“The steam made me weak,” she said.
“You don’t get out of that bed without
