She studied him a long moment before her fingers curled on his cheek, the simple, delicate touch, sending a rippling sensation through his body. “You know what they say about those who try too hard to save other people?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “They say they need saving themselves.”

His hand slid to hers. “I’m way beyond saving, sweetheart.”

“So am I,” she whispered.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Then you’re looking too hard for something that’s not there.”

“I don’t think so.”

“If I can be saved then so can you.”

His lips twisted cynically. “We aren’t even in the same universe. Believe me. I’m lost. You can still be found.”

“You sound so sure.” She reached up and stroked his hair from where it already began to fall from the back at his neck, his fingers tugging it forward. Every time she touched him, his entire body burned. She had no idea how much willpower it required for him not to slide between her thighs and settle in for a long, hot night. “I wonder,” she contemplated, studying him with big, gorgeous eyes, he could get lost in forever, “if maybe we should both try to save each other and then in the morning, pretend we didn’t?”

Or maybe, Blake thought, in the morning he’d fly her off to some tropical paradise, away from this wicked winter hell of Alvarez’s world, and convince her she never has to come back.

The negotiation...

Blake’s mouth came down on hers, and this time he didn’t hold back. He wanted to save her. She wanted to save him. She didn’t have a chance where he was concerned, but the wicked heat of her kiss, the delicate play of her tongue against his, sure as hell would go a long way in helping him forget why that wasn’t possible, at least, for tonight.

His hand slid down her neck, over the soft silk of her shoulder and he tugged her bra strap down with him. Her skin was cool and he was hot. He wanted her hot in a nearly consuming way. It was illogical but he really didn’t care. His mouth traveled the delicate line of her shoulder blade and downward. Her fingers played in his hair, her touch affecting him far too easily, but then there wasn’t a lot of softness he let in his life. Normally, he’d snatch her hand, and hold it over her head. He’d do the touching, not her, so why wasn’t he doing that now? Why wasn’t he stopping her? Why the hell was he lingering at the sweet spot at the base of her throat when he could be ripping away her panties and burying himself inside her?

After all, he’d been on the edge before he’d ever met her, ready to finally get what he wanted, what he’d craved for two years. Knowing he was still too far away. His need for an escape, for something hard, fast, and furious, should be driving him. Instead an inescapable, dangerously distracting, need to save this woman, to please her, consumed him.

His fingers traced the clip in the center of her bra and unsnapped it, closer to having her completely bared to him. He wanted her bared to him. He wanted her naked, panting, and screaming his name. Blake caressed away the silk of her bra and framed her high, full br**sts with his hands. She arched into him, and moaned when his mouth closed down on the rosy peek of one nipple. He took his time, teasing her, licking her, enjoying her, rather than ravishing her, slowly kissing his way downward, until he peeled her panties down her hips.

Something dark and needy expanded inside him at the sight of the dark, well-groomed triangle of hair between her thighs. He slid off of the bed, and took the panties all the way down her legs, at the same time he went to his knees, pulling her towards him.

She rose up on her elbows, her big brown eyes wide with emotion, without arousal, and yes–there it was again – just a hint of trepidation. No matter how hard she tried to hide the truth, a night with a stranger wasn’t the norm for her. Not even close.

His gaze raked over her lush br**sts, his c**k thick and pulsing, and he tugged his shirt over his head and got rid of it. He tossed one of her high-heels and then the other. “No shoes, keeps you from running away.”

“Then maybe you better take yours off,” she commented.

“I never run.”

“Neither do I,” she said. “But even the score. Shoes off.”

His lips quirked at her challenge and he gladly complied. “Satisfied now?” he asked settling her feet back on his thighs.

“Not yet,” she said. “But I have high hopes I will be.”

He laughed at that bold statement. She was a contradiction of fearless and fearful that intrigued him. “You will be,” he promised, and one by one, he rolled the lace-topped silk slices down her legs, skimming a path down her long, shapely legs. The woman had a killer body that would have had any man begging to be right here, opening her legs to him. And open she did as he settled one delicate instep on each of his shoulders.

He stroked a finger down her core and her legs quivered. “Slick and hot,” he approved. “You sure feel like you want to be saved.”

“I’m not sure saved is the word-”

Blake buried his face between her thighs, and suckled her nub. She gasped in surprise and he watched her fall back onto the mattress, her pink painted nails digging into the comforter. He smiled with satisfaction, lapping at her, delicately teasing and licking, even as his finger slid inside her, stroking her. And she unraveled for him, oh yeah she did. Soft moans and sweet nectar that were so sexy and perfect he could have licked her all night, but she wasn’t having it. She shattered for him, her body shaking, arching deliciously against his mouth and hand.