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I unlock the door to my place and sneak in. My heart thumps when I look toward the bed. Katelyn is still here. She’s asleep, and she looks like an angel.

I close the door behind me, secure the deadbolt, and tread quietly to the bathroom where I wash my hands and face. Normally I shower after work, but I don’t want to wake Katelyn.

I shed my clothes, my tattoo catching my attention in the mirror. Damn. Now what? I can’t go to bed wearing long sleeves.

Or maybe I can.

I grab a beige Henley—I was told to get neutral clothes that don’t stand out—and a clean pair of boxer briefs. Then I slide into my bed next to Katelyn. It’s a queen-sized bed, and it takes up quite a bit of space in the small studio. I thought about trading it in for a full, but now I’m glad I didn’t. Plenty of room for both Katelyn and me.

I hope this isn’t the only time we’ll share a bed.

I ache to touch her, run my fingers through her silky golden hair, kiss her milky flesh.

Instead I curl into her body, spooning her.

She tenses against me.

“Hey,” I say. “You okay?”

“Luke?”

“Of course it’s me. This is my place.”

“Right. Right. I was just dreaming.”

“Were you? You were still.”

“I kind of woke up with a jolt. The dream was… It’s…gone. I can’t remember.”

“That’s normal, baby.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I meant to go home.”

“Don’t be silly. I told you that you could stay.”

“I know.” She yawns.

I smile. “Sleepy?”

“Yeah. A little.”

I kiss the side of her head. “Go to sleep, then, baby. Sweet dreams.”

I awake with a raging hard-on, of course. I’ve had one since I got home. Plus, I’m hot and sweaty sleeping in this long-sleeved Henley.

I stumble out of bed quietly, trying not to wake Katelyn. I pad to my tiny kitchen and start a pot of coffee. Then I head to the bathroom to shower. Feels good to get the grime of work off, especially after dealing with Pollack.

I won’t tell Katelyn about that. I already know how she knows him, and I’d prefer not to think about it.

I do have a meeting with Anthony DeCarlo at eleven, though, so I need to make some excuse to Katelyn. She can still stay here if she wants to.

I dry off quickly and put on a long-sleeved athletic shirt and blue jeans. Then I pour myself a cup of the coffee that’s now done brewing.

My angel still sleeps, her blond hair fanning out on my pillow like a golden curtain. She moves with a soft moan, stretches her arms, and then opens her eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say.

She smiles. “Hi.”

“Coffee?” I hold out my cup.

“Mmm. Not yet. You come here.”

I set my coffee down and sit down on the bed. She holds out her arms, and I fall on top of her into her embrace.

There goes my dick again. This “being a good man” stuff is hard on the groin. Big time.

I press my lips to hers, and to my surprise, she parts her lips and welcomes me in. It’s a gentle kiss, but only at first. Soon we’re both panting and sliding our lips against each other’s in a maddening frenzy.

She’s wearing only her bra and panties, and I’m fully clothed.

“Please,” she sighs into me.

“Katelyn…”

“Please, Luke. There was a time when I thought I’d never want another man. Now that I do, I’m not sure I can take it much longer. I need to remember. I need to know that this thing between a man and a woman can be beautiful too. All I’ve seen in the past decade is ugly. Show me the beautiful again.”

God, her words. Her body. Her sweet and innocent heart. If she only knew who I used to be…

But I’m not him anymore.

I’m Luke Johnson. A good man.

But still a man.

A man who finds Katelyn Brooks impossible to resist.

But how? How can I make love to her with a long-sleeved shirt on?

I’ll have to make do, I guess, because the lovemaking is going to happen. And it will be hell to go slowly.

But I’ll walk through hell for Katelyn. Today and any day.

It will be nothing compared to what she’s been through.

I kiss her cheeks, her neck, the tops of her breasts. She’s so lovely, and when I unclasp the front of her bra, she sucks in her breath but then nods. “It’s okay. Please.”

The two cups part, and before me is the most perfect set of tits I’ve ever seen. Slightly larger than my hands, with brown-pink areolas and nipples like berries. Hard and perfect. I kiss around each nipple and then take one between my lips.

She sucks in a breath again.

I look up, and she nods.

All is still good. Thank God.

I play with her nipples using my lips and my fingers, relish in her moans and sighs and Yes, Luke’s. All the while my cock grows harder, harder, harder, until I’m convinced it’s going to break into pieces if it doesn’t get inside her soon.


Tags: Helen Hardt Romance