Fallen Fire by Monica Owens

Author:Monica Owens [Owens, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Sage Publishing Inc.
Published: 2016-07-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Esme woke to the feel of a warm, wet washcloth moving over her belly. She blinked awake to see Rack, jeans slung low on his hips, cleaning her up. He glanced up at her face and saw she was looking at him. His sensuous lips quirked up in a smile.

“Got you messy and didn’t clean you up. I’m blaming the bump on my head.”

She smiled back, but nerves took over when he moved the washcloth between her legs. She grappled for and succeeded in grabbing his wrist. “I can clean up.”

“Let me do it, Esme.”

Something in his tone made her let go of his wrist. She settled back on the bed and let him clean her. As he made passes with the washcloth, the less mortified she became, but a part of her remained absolutely embarrassed at how she’d acted with him.

How could she have had sex with this man? The things she’d seen him do, the things that had been happening around her….She didn’t know what to think anymore. Maybe she was going insane. It was possible. How else could she explain all the fire, the strength, the man flying, the sexual tension…?

He gently patted her belly. “All done.”

She watched as he walked over to the attached bathroom. Yes, she’d undressed him, cleaned up the blood on him after the accident, but she’d never laid eyes on his back. Now she stared, disbelieving at the beauty she saw. Wings gracefully arced across his shoulders and down his back. Whispery feathers rested along his spine and disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. They were almost three dimensional and gave the appearance of actual, real wings jutting out of his back.

He came out of the bathroom, and the look on his face made her realize that she was still lying there, naked and exposed. She scrambled up and grabbed the sheet, kneeling on the bed and holding the thin material to her chest.

“I am not normally so….” she trailed off, unable to think of a word that described how insane with lust she’d been. Was there a word in any language that could describe it?

He stopped and put his hands on his hips. His eyes traced down her body and she flushed. Without intending to, she probably looked like a pinup, with the puny sheet in front of her breasts, while on her knees, spread wide and barely covered.

She tried to slide to the edge of the bed.

He moved closer and she froze.

Sure, he was gorgeous, but he’d tried to hurt her. Then he’d saved her, and she’d saved him. None of it made sense. Someone was trying to hurt him, and possibly her, and she was nowhere close to finding Fleur. Not to mention she had no doubt lost her job, a job given to her by a mad man and he was probably pretty angry at her.

All she could think about were those damn rings in Rack’s fucking cock and balls.

Rack slid a knuckle over her cheek. “I’m sorry.

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