Fallen Angels: Beguiled / Wanton / Uncovered

He seemed a bit stunned as she moaned softly and her fingers dug into his upper arms. He held her close, his own breathing harsh while his mouth moved gently on her temple. In all her imaginings, she had never envisioned this scenario, allowing him to touch her there, with her half-leaning on his damn desk, her face tucked into his throat. His heartbeat drummed madly against her own, and she grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away. “Derek, no.”

Her voice shook with mortification, freezing him for an instant.

“Shhh.” He dropped her skirt back into place and softly rocked her, soothing her. She bit her lip to keep her tears from falling, but even now she was painfully aware of his scent, his warmth. And the delicious, unexpected feelings didn’t leave now that his touch was removed, they only quieted a bit.

She put one hand on his chest and lifted her face. He didn’t smile, didn’t ask questions. She couldn’t quite look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what came over me.”

“Am I complaining?”

She shook her head. No, he looked pleased, but not really smug. Not as she’d expected. “That’s never happened before. I don’t understand.”

“What’s never happened?”

“Between you and me. Usually everything was just so…controlled. And uncomfortable. I’ve never felt…”

His face darkened, and she hastened to explain. “I don’t mean to insult you, but Derek, you know yourself that sex between us was…well, you seemed to like it okay, but I was a little disappointed. Not…not that it was all your fault. It’s just that I didn’t…it wasn’t…”

He smoothed her hair, his jaw tight. He seemed undecided about something, and then suddenly he clasped her waist and lifted her off her feet. He sat her on the edge of the desk, roughly spreading her thighs and stepping between them in the same movement. Pain shot through her and she gasped, curling forward, her hand reaching for her leg, wanting to rub away the sharp pounding ache. Her breath had left her and her free hand curled into his biceps, gripping him painfully. Derek froze, then growled, “What the hell?”

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, but God, it hurt, and with more gentleness than she knew he possessed, Derek lifted her into his arms and headed for the leather couch.

Nothing was going right. “Derek, put me down.”

“You’re as white as a sheet.” He looked down on her as he lowered her to the sofa cushions, and she flinched at the anger in his eyes. “I noticed you were limping a little when you came in, but I didn’t realize you were hurt.”

“I’m not,” she protested, the issue of her leg meant for another day. “Really, I’ll just…”

“You’ll just keep your butt put and tell me what’s wrong. Is it your hip? Your leg?”

Before she could answer he reached beneath her long skirt and caught at her leggings, hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging downward. “Derek!”

With his hands still under her skirt, his eyes locked on hers, he said, “After what we just came close to doing, you’re shocked?”

Flustered was more apt, and appalled and embarrassed and…“Derek, please.” But already he had her tights pulled down to her knees. She felt horribly exposed and vulnerable. He explored her thighs, being very thorough, and it was more than she could bear. “It’s my lower leg,” she snapped. “I broke it some time back and it’s still a little sore on occasion. That’s all.”

He stared at her, and she had the feeling he didn’t believe a single word she’d said. “Let me get your shoes off.”

She sat up and pushed at his hands. “I don’t want my shoes off, dammit!”

“At the moment, I don’t care what you want.” And her laced-up, ankle-high shoes came off in rapid order, then her tights. As he looked at her leg, at the angry scars still there, his jaw tightened. “Damn.”

Angel bristled, her only defense at being so exposed. “It’s ugly, I know. If it bothers you, don’t look at it.”

One large hand wrapped around her ankle, keeping her still, and the other carefully touched the vivid marks left behind by the break and the subsequent surgery. “A compound fracture?”

“So you’re a doctor now?”

He ignored her provocation. “This is where the break was, and this is where they inserted a rod.” His gaze swung back up to her face, accusing.

Disgruntled, but seeing no way out of her present predicament, she said, “I’m fine, really. It’s just that when you sat me on the desk, you jarred my leg and it…well, it hurt. It’s still a little tender. I only recently got off crutches.”

His gaze was hot with anger. “And you’re running around downtown in the ice and snow today?”

“I wasn’t running around! I came to see you.”

“Because you needed a man,” he sneered, and her temper shot off the scales.

“Damn you!” Struggling upward, pulling herself away from his touch, she pointed to the shoe box still sitting on his desk. “I came to bring you that.” Then she added, “Whether you wanted it or not.”

He turned his head in the direction she indicated, but continued to kneel beside the couch. “What the hell is it?”

Angel came awkwardly to her feet and limped barefoot across the plush carpeted floor. She picked up the box, but then hesitated. She hadn’t planned to raise hell with him, to anger him and alienate him. She had to move carefully or she’d blow everything. She closed her eyes as she gathered her thoughts and calmed herself. She hadn’t heard him move, but suddenly Derek’s hands were on her shoulders and he turned her toward him.

“What is it, Angel?”

He sounded suspicious, an edge of danger in his tone. She’d always known Derek could be formidable, his will like iron, his strength unquestionable. But she’d never sensed this edge of ruthlessness in him before. She shuddered.

“I don’t mean to shock you, Derek. And I realize you weren’t all that interested when I told you, but I was hoping you’d feel different now.”

His arms crossed over his chest and he narrowed his eyes. “Interested in what?”

She drew a deep breath, but it didn’t help. “Our baby.”

Not so much as an eyelash moved on his face. He even seemed to be holding his breath.

“Derek?”

“A baby?”

She nodded, curling her toes into the thick carpet and shivering slightly, waiting.

“How do you know it’s mine?”

She reeled back, his words hitting her like a cold slap. After all she’d been through, everything that had happened, not once had she suspected he might deny the child. That was low, even for him. She had to struggle to draw a breath, and once she had it, she shouted, “You bastard!” She swung at him, but he caught her fist and the box fell to the floor, papers and pictures scattering.

“Miserable, rotten…” Her struggles seemed puny in comparison to his strength, but he had destroyed her last hope, delivered the ultimate blow. She wanted to hurt him as badly as she’d been hurt, but he was simply too strong for her and finally she quit. He hadn’t said a word. Panting, shaking from the inside out, she whispered, “Let me go.”

Immediately, he did. Keeping her head high, refusing to cry, to contemplate the hopelessness of the situation in the face of his doubt, she went to the couch and sat, snatching up her tights and trying to untangle them so she could get them on.

Even though she refused to look at him, she was aware of him still standing there in the middle of the floor, fixed and silent. When he squatted down to pick up the contents of the box, Angel glanced at him. His face was set, dark color high on his cheekbones. He lifted one small photo and stared at it.

All Angel wanted to do was get out. She jerked on her shoes, pulling the laces tight, fighting the tears that seemed to gather in her throat, choking her. She’d humiliated herself for no reason. She’d allowed him to touch her for no reason. He wasn’t going to acknowledge the baby.

“I’m sorry.”

She glanced up as she shrugged on her coat. Derek still crouched in the middle of the floor, a single photo in his hand, his head hanging forward.

Angel frowned. “What did you say?”