Page 37 of Her Reluctant Hero
She looked up, blinked to focus.
“How old are you?” he asked suddenly. She was a mother, but that didn’t mean much.
“Twenty-four.”
He relaxed a little, then looked at the bed. She tucked a bookmark into her book, turned toward him and reached for the buttons of her kitten pajamas, her eyes focused on his face.
“What are you doing?” he choked.
“I told you I’d do anything to bring my son home.”
He took a step back. “I won’t screw you in payment for getting to your son. I’m not that big of an asshole.”
She frowned and her hand stilled. “But, the bed.”
“It’s a big bed.” He hoped. “I’m not going to attack you in your sleep.”
“I know.” But she seemed to hold her breath while he walked around to the other side, tugged back the covers and climbed in. When he glanced over, she seemed to have drawn into herself, gotten smaller.
“Are you scared of me?”
“No.”
She almost sounded sure.
“I know you won’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.” She gave a soft laugh, “But I know you can make me want to do things.”
He turned toward her on his side. She wanted him. The knowledge was enough to give him a big…ego. “Really?”
She looked over her shoulder at him, but he could feel her nearly vibrate with nerves. “Just like that.”
“Just like that.” He chuckled. “You going to turn the light out soon?”
“Is it keeping you up?”
No, that wasn’t what was keeping him up. The curve of her body beneath the covers, the warmth of her, the scent of her, that did it. “I can sleep through anything,” he said.
“Okay. If you don’t mind, I’ll read a little more.”
He closed his eyes. It was damned domestic, is what it was. Nice. His eyes popped open at the thought.
“Alex? Are you asleep?”
He hadn’t thought he was, but the room was dark now, and he didn’t remember Isabella turning off the lights.
“Yeah.” He was pretty sure his croaky voice gave him away. “What? Bad dream?”
“I haven’t been to sleep yet.”
“What do you need, Goddess?”
“Do you have kids?”
Her voice in the dark was soft, young, none of the husky tone or crisp banter he was accustomed to hearing. He rolled onto his back.
“No. No kids.”
“Do you wish you did?”
