Excerpt of Dark Angel by Natasha Moore

Heaven help him.

Rafe sank down onto the black leather sofa and buried his face in his hands. He’d been dreading Julie’s visit for the questions she might ask. For the memories she might dredge up. He never imagined he’d dread simply being in the same room with her.

She’d grown into a damned desirable woman. He shouldn’t be noticing that soft, feminine scent of hers. Or watching those bright blue eyes as they scanned his body. And he certainly had no right imagining those long legs wrapped around his waist.

This was Julie, for God’s sake.

But how was he supposed to see all that bare skin and not want to feel its smooth warmth under him? He let his breath out on a shaky sigh. He hadn’t touched a woman in a very long time. Hadn’t wanted to.

Until tonight.

“Hi.”

He looked up as she padded into the room in her bare feet and his robe. He couldn’t resist looking at her toe nails and saw that they were painted bright red.

“Do you have a comb?” she asked.

He shot his gaze away from her toes and up to her face. “What?”

She raised her eyebrows at the stupid question. “A comb?” She grasped the ends of her wet hair. “For my hair? My purse is in the car.”

He jumped up. “Sorry. Be right back.”

He took the stairs two at a time. He had to get in control. Whether he liked the idea or not, she was spending the night here. With him. It was early yet and he’d never make it through the evening if he lost his grip now.

He didn’t know what to do with another person in the house, someone who needed attention and conversation. Add to that the wild, hot attraction running through his veins, and he wished he could lock himself in his bedroom and not come out until morning.

Rafe grabbed the comb from his dresser, turned around and went slowly back down the stairs.

When he returned, Julie was curled up in one corner of the sofa. Her naked, painted toes were hidden beneath the robe. He handed the comb to her and she smiled up at him. Her face lit up.

“Thanks.”

She had the prettiest smile he’d ever seen, and he’d seen a lot over the years. He opened his mouth to say the words out loud, but caught himself just in time. What was wrong with him? He groaned and walked across the room to the bay window shrouded in darkness.

“What?” she asked.

The opposite side of the large living room wasn’t far enough. He could still smell her soft scent. Could still feel her gaze warm on his back. He stared out the window into the stormy darkness, but could only see his pitiful reflection staring back at him.

“Were you going to say something?” Julie asked.

Rafe turned around slowly to face her. She’d started to work the comb through her tangled locks. He couldn’t speak, could only stand there and watch her. She looked back at him, obviously waiting for him to answer her, all the while drawing his comb through her long blonde hair. There was something so sensual about the task that he couldn’t drag his gaze away, could barely breathe. Then she stretched and her painted toes peeked out from the hem of the robe. He caught a glimpse of long, bare leg as the robe parted, and his breath hitched.

He had to get out of here. He had to get her out of here. But the rain still battered the house. He knew she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere until the storm was over and he dug her car out of the mud. He was stuck with her, with her soft scent and tempting toes.

She’d finished combing her hair and leaned over to set the comb down on the coffee table. Like a teenager, he gawked at the shadow of cleavage exposed, round swells of pale flesh that had his palms itching.

Heaven help him.