Forbidden

2

ANTHONY MUST HAVE HAD a lot to be paranoid about.

Apprehension crawled along Paige’s skin. Josh’s comment wasn’t an off-the-cuff jest, or a typical response to her own remark about paranoia. There wasn’t an ounce of humor in his too-serious expression or the grim set of his jaw.

It had been a statement of fact.

Paige lowered herself to the couch, recalling Anthony’s behavior the last time he’d been home before his death, remembering how on edge he’d been. Every little sound that echoed in their house had made him so suspicious he hadn’t been able to sleep at night. He’d closed the curtains in every room, latched the locks on all the doors and windows and prowled restlessly through the house. On their last morning together, she’d found him sleeping on the couch, sitting upright, his body finally claimed by exhaustion. His gun was clutched in his hand, resting in his lap, index finger curled around the trigger. When she’d gently touched his shoulder to wake him, he’d bolted off the couch and leveled his pistol straight at her heart. His eyes were wild, his savage expression that of the stranger he’d become.

She’d waited for the gun in her husband’s hand to explode, wondering in that flash of an instant what kind of terror drove him to such extremes. Her body began to tremble, and the hot, aching tears she’d stored for months rushed forward.

Finally, he’d lowered the gun, looking around as if his surroundings were coming into focus. He hadn’t apologized or comforted her for scaring the life out of her. Instead, his gaze had narrowed into a menacing glare and he’d roared, “Goddammit, Paige, don’t ever sneak up on me that way again!”

What little was left of her feelings for him shattered in that moment. “It’s over, Anthony,” she’d told him, and meant it. “I can’t keep living like this. I want the divorce I asked for months ago.”

“No.” It was the same answer he’d given her the first time she’d asked for a divorce. He didn’t want her because he loved and cherished her. No, Anthony always had a compulsion to be in control, and that meant domineering her life, as well.

Without another word on the subject, he’d packed his duffel bag and was gone within the hour. By the end of the day she’d contacted a lawyer and begun divorce proceedings. A few days later, a dissolution of the marriage had no longer been necessary. Anthony had made her a widow.

Josh sat beside her on the couch, nearest to the gun on the end table, and took a drink of his black coffee. Then his gaze met hers. “Did Anthony tell you anything at all about the case he was working on?”

Looking away from those dark eyes that seemed to penetrate too deeply, she reached for her own coffee and took a sip of the sweetened brew. Instead of setting the cup back down, she kept her fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic mug. “He never discussed his cases with me, and I learned never to ask.”

Whenever she’d expressed an interest in his work, he would snap at her and use the excuse that his cases weren’t up for discussion. It wasn’t that she wanted to know details, she only sought to understand the appeal of Anthony’s driving need to work on dangerous, undercover cases.

When Josh made no comment, she risked a glance at him, disturbed by the enmity touching his expression and the tense set of his shoulders. Carefully, she set her mug on the coffee table in front of her. “Josh, what’s going on?”

He blew out a rough breath, set his coffee cup next to hers, and dragged his fingers though his still damp hair. He muttered a raw expletive, then said, “Anthony’s death wasn’t an accident.”

She frowned. It took a few seconds for his meaning to sink in. When it did, her stomach churned. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate, yet she found herself choking out in a voice barely above a whisper, “You mean he was…murdered?”

Josh’s gaze held a wealth of sympathy and compassion, but he didn’t soften his reply. “Yes.”

“Dear Lord,” she breathed in horror. The finality of that one word rocked her world, made her mentally grope for answers to put this recent revelation into perspective. “But you told me nobody knew Anthony was an undercover officer.”

“They didn’t, Paige, I swear.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his hard thighs, his gaze holding hers. “According to the men still undercover on the case, the bad guys still don’t know Anthony was a cop.”

“I don’t understand.” Paige struggled to decipher what Josh was telling her, but her muddled mind refused to accept the truth. “If they didn’t know Anthony was a plant, why would they kill him?”

He gave her question a moment’s consideration. “I think you’d have a better understanding of the situation if I started from the beginning.”

“Please do.” She was beyond caring that she sounded haughty and demanding; she desperately wanted this awful turn of events to make some kind of sense.

Josh stood and went to the fireplace, a restless energy surrounding him. He tossed more logs on the grate and a burst of sparks filtered up the chimney. Taking the poker, he repositioned the wood, giving the chore more attention than it warranted.

“Josh, make me understand,” she pleaded.

Rubbing at the rigid muscles at the base of his neck, he glanced over his shoulder at her. The deep frown creasing his brows gave her the distinct impression he wanted to be anywhere but here, briefing her on the facts surrounding Anthony’s death.

“Anthony went undercover on this particular case to infiltrate a jewel-smuggling ring that has been trafficking rare and exotic gems into the Keys,” he explained, his voice low and threaded with an odd reluctance. “Anthony’s main objective was to get as close to the mob boss as possible. Our hope was that he’d be trusted enough to become a runner, someone they would involve in the actual smuggling. We needed that so we could bust the bad guys in the actual act of importing the jewels, which would give us enough evidence to prosecute.”

Paige pushed her thick fall of hair away from her face with a slightly shaking hand. What Josh described was exactly the kind of classified work she imagined Anthony did, full of risk and a dangerous, deadly kind of thrill.

She had a sudden understanding of how ignorance could be bliss.

“The man heading the organization, Victor Carranza, was very elusive, and Anthony had a difficult time establishing a relationship with him.” Josh jabbed the logs one last time before setting the brass poker back in its stand. Then he turned around and faced her. “There’s a woman who works for Carranza. Her name is Bridget, and she’s one of his runners. Since Anthony had little luck with Carranza himself, he switched tactics and decided to focus his attention on Bridget. It didn’t take Anthony long to get close to her. Within a couple of weeks, Anthony knew most of Carranza’s contacts.”

He started toward her, his gaze troubled, yet bright with determination. Sitting on the cushion next to her, he gently grabbed her hand, holding it within his palm. Though his fingers were warm, a startling chill thinned her blood.

“Paige…” He cut himself off, a muscle in his lean jaw flexing. “Christ, there’s no easy way to say this.”

A peculiar combination of anticipation and unease tripped up her pulse. “Say what, Josh?”

Regret softened his features, and he stroked his fingers along her hand. The display of solace only served to unnerve her.

He let out a slow breath, his mouth thinning in displeasure. “From what we’ve learned, Anthony was having an affair with her-”

Snatching her hand from his grasp, she bolted off the couch and crossed the room. Standing by the fireplace, her back to Josh, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her middle, doing her best to hold herself together. She hadn’t bargained for the more sordid details of Anthony’s undercover assignment, never would have guessed Josh would be the one to force her to deal with issues she’d deliberately tried to ignore.

So, Anthony had been having an affair. Josh’s announcement shouldn’t have surprised her, or hurt as much as it did. She’d had her suspicions before Anthony died. They hadn’t made love in months, and he hadn’t so much as kissed her or touched her beyond necessary contact. She’d chalked up his remoteness to stress on the job, until she’d discovered three foil packets in the inside pocket of his leather bomber jacket. What did he need condoms for when he’d insisted she go on the Pill? When she’d confronted him with the evidence, he’d laughed and told her the guys at the station must have played a joke on him and planted the prophylactics.

Knowing he’d deny any wrongdoing, she found it difficult to argue with his convenient excuse. Ultimately, she hadn’t believed him.

Since his death, she had made more discoveries, and had found irrefutable evidence of his infidelity: creditcard purchases for women’s lingerie, jewelry and other feminine frivolities she’d never received, charges for elegant hotel suites she’d never enjoyed with her husband, and expensive dinners at five-star restaurants she’d never been to.

Now one of the women he’d cavorted with had a name. The sense of betrayal twisting through her was excruciating.

The weight of Josh’s hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she flinched at his touch. She’d been so lost in her own unsettling thoughts she hadn’t realized he’d come up behind her.

“I’m so sorry, Paige,” he said, his voice contrite, but fueled by an underlying purpose. “The woman Anthony was having an affair with-”

Abruptly, she jerked away, whirled around to face him, and held up a hand to waylay his words. “I don’t want to hear this!”

He braced his hands on his hips and glowered at her, all previous signs of gentleness and understanding gone. The firelight painted his skin a warm gold hue, made his dark, silky hair gleam, giving him the appearance of a merciless, fierce warrior. “You don’t have a choice.” His tone was succinct and brooked no compromise.

“What Anthony did, and with whom, is now a moot point,” she snapped, her emotions frayed. “He’s dead!”

“What Anthony did was steal a valuable diamond-and-emerald necklace!” he shot back, his tone just as loud and angry.

She gasped in shock and reeled back. Denial came just as swiftly. “You’re wrong!” Her voice cracked, right along with a chunk of her composure. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe what he was saying. “Goddammit, Josh, you’re wrong!”

“I wish to hell I was, Paige.” He stepped toward her, and when she backed up out of his reach, he swore. “Anthony stole the Ivanov necklace from a collection of jewels that was smuggled in from Russia. The diamonds and emeralds in that necklace are reportedly worth over a million dollars, and Anthony stole it from the woman he was having an affair with before she could hand the collection over to Carranza. They knew the piece was missing, but it took Carranza a few weeks to track down who’d taken it. All traces led back to Anthony.”

Tears burned the back of her throat and stung her eyes. She choked on a sob she couldn’t hold back. “You’re lying!” Her accusation lacked conviction, but she wanted so badly for this moment in time to be nothing more than a nightmare, a trick of her imagination.

But Josh had never lied to her before.

“The investigation has been concluded and the facts confirmed by the men still working undercover on the case,” Josh ruthlessly went on. “The woman set him up for that explosion in the boat. Carranza found out he’d taken the Ivanov necklace, and when he denied it, they killed him. They had no idea he was a cop-”

Unable to listen to any more, incapable of understanding her husband’s multiple deceptions, she let out a deep, guttural cry that was ripped from the depths of her soul. “Nooo!” She came at Josh, fists flailing, striking out at him for every one of her husband’s indiscretions, his betrayal, his disloyalty. “No, no, no!” All at once her blows landed on his chest, his arms, his shoulder. A crack resounded as her fist unexpectedly connected with his jaw.

“Dammit,” he bit out, and caught her wrists, the strength of his grasp easily restraining her.

She stopped thrashing, tilted her head back and looked into Josh’s eyes. They were filled with the same haunting emotions that gripped her. She realized that Anthony’s actions had hurt him, too.

Oh, God, she felt so torn, disillusioned, and so painfully, horribly alone. Then the dam broke, the sheer magnitude of her anguish wracking her body with great soul-wrenching sobs.

Without a word, knowing what she needed, Josh pulled her into his arms, cradled her against his chest and held her while she purged herself of all her pent-up grief and rage. He stroked her back, murmuring soothing words as her tears dampened his skin, but not once did he tell her everything was going to be all right.

“Why, Josh?” she whispered achingly, once the worst of her emotional barrage had ebbed. She lifted her head from his shoulder to look into his eyes, seeking more answers. “What did I do wrong?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Josh whispered, their faces so close she could feel the caress of his warm breath on her lips. Lifting his hand, he brushed his knuckles tenderly across her cheek, wiping away the last of the moisture lingering there. “It was nothing you did. It was just the way Anthony was.”

She was beginning to understand that, but it didn’t lessen the pain of his duplicity. “I never really knew him.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” he admitted. Drawing in a steadying lungful of air that expanded his chest, he went on in a rush, “Paige, there’s more I need to tell you.”

Her stomach clenched, and before she could think about what she was doing, she pressed her fingers over his lips. “No, Josh,” she said in a ragged voice. “Please, no.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, not caring that she was clinging, because it felt so good to be held like this, as if she meant something to someone.

It had been so long.

“Ah, Paige…” A shudder rippled the length of him and she sensed that self-control of his slip; she could feel his acquiescence in the way his breathing deepened, the way his hands slowly, languidly slid down her spine and gripped her hips-not to push her away, but to bring her closer still.

The awareness they’d fought to suppress for years sizzled to life between them-a need so compelling it shook Paige to the very core.

Turning her head, she let her lashes drift shut and inhaled Josh’s clean male scent. A deep, forgotten longing stole through her, and she boldly skimmed her lips along his jaw, tasting his skin, seeking a more elemental comfort, a more primal contact.

She needed this affirmation of her existence. She needed to feel alive, wanted and desired. Swallowing her pride, she told him in a soft, husky whisper, “I need you, Josh.”

A rough groan rumbled in his chest and he touched his soft, warm mouth to hers. The gesture started out as a chaste kiss, tentative and searching, until she parted her lips under the coaxing heat of his own. Then, the tenor changed. So did all the rules they’d lived by for the past three years.

His tongue daringly breached barriers he’d never explored before, gliding deeply, erotically into uncharted territory to stake a claim. His claim. Her mouth was just as insatiable, opening wider to receive the seductive thrust of his tongue, to welcome the heat and unbridled hunger exploding between them. Her head spun, and she tingled with the wonderful sensation of being desired. Slipping her fingers into the silky hair at his nape, she arched sinuously against him.

A strong arm slid around her back, cradling her within his embrace, making her feel sheltered and protected. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and her nipples tightened against the lacy webbing of her bra. His other hand roamed lower, beneath the hem of her sweater, to cup her bottom, nudging her intimately closer. The press of his erection between them sparked a thrill of arousal that pooled in her belly and between her thighs.

She moaned into his mouth. Need rose swiftly, overwhelming in its power, making the entire length of her body quiver. But the ache in her heart, the one she’d lived with for what felt like an eternity, was still too sharp, still too acute.

She wanted it to go away. Wanted to forget everything but the luxurious pleasure Josh’s touch evoked. If only for this one night, she didn’t want to think, she wanted to feel.

Josh dragged his mouth from Paige’s and nuzzled the fragrant curve of her neck, found the silky hollow beneath her ear with his mouth.

For too long he’d imagined what it would be like to kiss Paige with unrestrained passion and have her respond with such eagerness and fire…fantasized in the darkest hours of the night about making love to her, possessing her heart, body and soul.

Now that temptation beckoned him. She beckoned him.

Lifting his head and loosening his hold, he stared into green eyes glittering with desire, and so much need. So much anguish. Those vulnerable emotions threatened his restraint, because he wanted to ease her pain any way he could. And right now, she wanted the tenderness of human touch to wipe away the ugliness.

His touch.

He was close to giving in. His honorable intentions wavered within him, playing tug-of-war with the reckless urge to do things to her, with her, he’d only dreamed about.

How could that be right? “Oh, God, Paige…”

“Josh, please,” she begged in a sexy, throaty voice that wreaked havoc with his sanity. She dragged her tongue across her lush bottom lip, pink and swollen from his kiss.

The craziness of wanting her started all over again. When he opened his mouth to issue a protest, she cut him off.

“Don’t say anything.” Her beautiful gaze beseeched him in a way no words could. “I need you to make me forget. Just for tonight.” Grasping the hem of her sweater, she pulled it over her head and dropped it on the floor, leaving her clad in a pretty bra that he could see right through, and leggings that molded to her hips and long legs. Her hair tumbled in tousled, sensual disarray around her shoulders.

Denying her became a distant thought. Loving her and giving her a safe haven for the night became his sole purpose. Holding her gaze, he reached out and slid his fingers from the pulse fluttering in her throat, down the slope of a perfectly curved breast cupped in sheer floral lace, across a taut nipple-and heard her breath catch in her throat-and continued to the front clasp of her bra. He hesitated, knowing with this one action, he was agreeing to her terms.

Just for tonight.

He’d never been one for one-night stands, and his feelings for Paige made what was about to happen even more complicated. But he couldn’t walk away. Not when they needed each other so much.

With a flick of his thumb and index finger he unhooked her bra, watching as the sides separated to reveal pale mounds of flesh tipped with dark centers. His gut clenched, and he spontaneously buried both hands in her thick, luxurious hair and brought her mouth back to his.

He meant to go slow and savor every kiss, every sigh, every nuance of what made her so special, so sweet. He meant to wallow in her softness, her feminine scent, her response to his touch. He meant to show her just how much she meant to him, and take the time to worship her with his hands, his mouth, his sex.

Those good intentions fled the moment her lips parted beneath his and she sucked his tongue into her mouth. She was too needy to go at a leisurely pace, too out of control to tame. So he let her dictate how far she wanted to go, how wild and fast she wanted this ride to be.

The tempest of the rain and wind outside was nothing compared to the velocity gathering momentum between them. The frenzied way Paige’s hands explored his chest, skimmed down the flat plane of his belly, then tugged impatiently on the drawstring of his sweatpants left Josh no time to think about getting her to a nice, soft bed. Where he took Paige didn’t seem to matter to her. She was too caught up in her own private urgency to care. Her flattened palms smoothed into the waistband, loosening the drawstring, giving her more slack to glide her hands inside to seek warmer, harder flesh.

Knowing he was a goner if she so much as touched his straining erection, he abruptly pulled her with him to the plush carpeting. They ended up on their knees in front of the crackling fire, facing each other, their mouths still fused, tongues mating. He cupped her full breasts and caressed them with his hands, rolled her nipples between his fingers. She whimpered, and tugged at his sweatpants again.

He broke their kiss and grabbed at her groping hands. “Not yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, and pressed her down, until she was lying before him. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, he swept them and her panties down her long legs, tossing the clothing aside.

And then he sat back and looked his fill, awed by her loveliness, and the trusting way she parted her thighs for him to slide in between. Firelight warmed her skin to a shimmery peach hue and spun gold in her hair and the thatch of curls covering her femininity. She was all supple curves, endlessly long limbs, and sexy as hell.

He’d wanted her for so long, and now she was his.

His gaze gradually climbed back up to her face, stopping to admire each attribute on the way. “You’re absolutely beautiful,” he told her, and guessed by the flush staining her cheeks that Anthony hadn’t told her that often enough.

And because he didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and the days following, he set about showing her just how alluring he found her, how desirable, how delicious. He lavished every inch of her in kisses, starting at her instep, moving to the arousing spot behind her knee, and dragging his mouth along thighs that quaked in anticipation. His tongue dipped into her navel, laved her breasts, then he suckled her nipple deep into his mouth. With a strangled cry, she plowed her fingers through his hair and held him to her, her body moving insistently beneath his.

He didn’t give in to her silent demands. He wasn’t done with his exploration. Her sensitive neck was a delight he thoroughly enjoyed, her mouth a treasure trove of erotic pleasures he indulged in. He hadn’t known French kisses could taste so damn good. With her, they held the flavor of heaven, the essence of forever.

The sweet, delicate taste reminded him of the only other place he hadn’t sampled; he’d deliberately saved the best for last. He sat up between her knees and shimmied the rest of the way out of his sweatpants. But instead of sliding over and into her, he took a more brazen approach he wasn’t sure she’d approve of. She didn’t stop him when he used his palms and caressed from her bent knee to her thighs and slowly guided her legs further apart. Didn’t object when he lowered his mouth and nuzzled her, and drew deeply of her scent. Didn’t protest when he slicked his thumb over petal-soft folds damp with her arousal. Didn’t demur when his tongue joined in the foray and stroked her intimately.

She closed her eyes on a sigh and entwined her fingers in his hair, shamelessly letting him have his way with her. There were no barriers between them, no restrictions. The moan of complete surrender that purred in her throat, her openness and the unconditional faith she gave him humbled him like nothing in his life ever had. Those elements also drove him on, made him ruthless in taking what he wanted.

It didn’t take her long to find a shattering release, one that made her cry out and tremble and push frantically against his shoulders at the intensity of such an allconsuming orgasm. He rode out the climax with her, taking her all the way.

Only when she’d touched back down to earth did he ease his body over hers, bracing his forearms on either side of her head.

He caught a glimpse of fever-bright eyes before her lashes drifted downward, concealing her emotions. His jaw hardened in resolve.

Gently grasping her face between his palms, he held her so she couldn’t turn away, so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Look at me, Paige,” he said, his tone slightly gruff. It wasn’t a matter of her knowing who was about to make love to her-instinctively he knew he’d given her more in the last half hour than Anthony had in three years of marriage-but no way was he going to let her retreat into herself after what they’d just shared…and certainly not before what they were going to share.

Her eyes opened, and a myriad of emotions danced in the reflection of dying firelight. Most prominent was the deep, painful heartache he’d contributed to this evening, and an ocean of longing he believed he was a direct part of. There wasn’t much he could do about the first emotion, but he could cater to the second.

Her hands slipped down the slope of his back, over his buttocks, rocking him closer, until the tip of his shaft penetrated ever-so-slightly.

She shuddered and arched. “Josh, come inside me,” she said in a wispy voice.

The image her words incited were powerful enough to make him do just that. Literally. Before he had the luxury of sheathing himself within her. But he didn’t want their time together to end so quickly, didn’t want the night, this moment, to slip away anytime soon. So, he bent his head and kissed her. Slow and wet and rapacious, making her wild again, making him burn, building them both toward the completion of everything that had come before.

She was ready for him, and he couldn’t wait a second longer.

She was so tight, so snug, that the first deep plunging thrust took them both by surprise. She gasped sharply as her body stretched to accommodate his size, his length. He groaned as her passage softened around him, accepted him, enveloped him until he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. She was as primed as a woman could be, yet there was a certain resistance thai came from a long period of abstinence.

Then all thought fled as she began undulating he hips, making him slide deeper still, submersing him in silky heat. With a rough groan, he caught her heels and pulled her legs tight around his hips. The position offered him greater access, and he took advantage of it, giving her the wild ride she wanted.

She nipped at his jaw aggressively, then gently sank her teeth into his neck, only to soothe the bite with her tongue. He felt that slow, wet lap all the way to his groin. He grew harder, impossibly thicker. Tossing his head back, he pumped rhythmically, over and over driving toward completion.

He felt the first tiny quiver of her release convulse around him, heard a sob break from her throat along with his name. He opened his eyes and looked down just in time to see the ecstacy and pleasure on her face as she came for him. That was all it took. His own climax slammed into him, powerful and unrelenting, until finally he buried his face in her neck and let out a long, spent groan.

He lay there on top of her, still inside her, awed by the indescribable feelings their lovemaking evoked Never, with any of the women he’d ever slept with, had he ever experienced such fire and passion-or such a primal need to possess.

But then he’d never loved a woman the way he loved Paige, and that made all the difference between sex and making love.

Wanting the precious, simple moment to last a little while longer before reality intruded, he pressed warm kisses on her neck. A shiver raced through her body, making her breasts swell beneath the crush of his chest.

He found himself smiling, and took great satisfaction in her automatic response. She stroked his hair, his relaxed shoulders, the firm slope of his back, keeping him close. Her legs remained entwined with his, giving him no indication she wanted him to leave her. His body quickened.

And then he felt something warm and wet seep against the hand still buried into her hair at the side of her face. Frowning, he lifted his head and stared into luminous green eyes filled with silent tears. She blinked and another single drop escaped.

His heart wrenched in his chest. He brushed the moisture away with his thumb, wondering at the source of those tears. “Paige?” he questioned.

A watery smile curved her mouth. “Don’t ask me to explain what even I don’t understand,” she said, brushing her fingers along his jaw, right where she’d walloped him earlier. Her touch was soothing, but the look in her eyes was troubled. “Let’s chalk it up to a very emotional night.”

Her tears were a natural release after everything she’d been through that evening, he told himself, but he couldn’t help but wonder, and worry, about the change to their relationship after what they’d just shared. They’d crossed boundaries and become lovers in a time of need. What would happen now? Would this be a one-night stand, or the beginning of something special for them?

Tomorrow would tell.

That simple thought led to another more complicated issue-the fact that he’d yet to tell Paige that Anthony’s perfidy had put her life at risk.

Knowing her fragile emotional state couldn’t withstand more shocking news, he decided the morning would be soon enough to discuss things. Moving off her, he stood. She sat up, too, reaching for her sweater.

He found her bout of modesty endearing, but unnecessary. “You don’t need that, sweetheart. I’ve seen everything there is to see.” Catching her hand before it closed around the article of clothing, he gave her an easy tug until she was standing before him in all her naked glory.

Letting out a breath that did nothing to ease the surge of heat heading straight to his groin, he glanced away and started toward the hall, pulling her along. “Come on, let’s put you to bed.”

She’d transformed the master bedroom from what had been a masculine domain into a feminine haven, her touch evident throughout. The furniture was frilly and Victorian, as was the four-poster bed. Lacy curtains framed the window, and the bedspread was made of mauve silk with matching ruffled pillows, which he tossed onto the brocade chair in the corner of the room. He pulled back the covers, waited until she slipped between the sheets, then adjusted the blanket around her shoulders.

“Get some rest, Paige,” he said, and couldn’t resist sliding his fingers through her silky hair one last time. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

He started back out of the room, but her husky voice halted him before he could retreat.

“Josh?”

He stopped and glanced back at her, though all he could see in the darkness was a huddled form beneath the covers. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, then, “Will you stay with me tonight and just hold me?”

It was the last thing he expected, and the last thing he’d refuse. “Let me take care of the fire, and I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Less than five minutes later he returned, sliding into bed next to her. He snuggled up behind her, his muscular body pressing against soft womanly curves. Wrapping his arms securely around her waist, he cocooned their bodies in a warm, trusting intimacy. Long after Paige had fallen asleep, he savored the feel of her in his arms.

And realized he never wanted to let her go.