There was a reason he’d avoided Angel Smith. Already, she’d started seeping under his skin, making him feel things he preferred not to think about. And it felt so good it scared him.

He moved in, set his chin on her shoulder, and whispered, “I can’t…” When he didn’t go on, she turned a little to the right, enough to put the tips of their noses together. “Can’t what?” “Can’t stop wanting you.

He rose. “Come here.” Like a moth to a flame, mesmerized, or hypnotized, or something. Angel went to him, giving herself up to Ford Cooper’s ephemeral net.

You feel a loss of control?” “Never… Never had control to begin with.

I thought you were a jerk.” He shook with an unexpected burst of laughter. “I know.” He squeezed her tight, trying to figure out how to keep her alive. “I know.

I’d do anything to be inside you right now.

He’d touched her, felt her skin, seen her pleasure, and it scared the living hell out of him. She’d burn him if she got too close. And he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.