Page 18 of Fallen Angel
“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…therewasa 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.”
