Angel Falling (Falling #1)(24)

The photographer was a pill, but well known. He shot for all the top fashion magazines and would skyrocket Bright right to the top … as long as he was kept calm. That was my job—CEO and babysitter to needy, overconfident snobs. I should take lessons from Ollie. He’d had to deal with me and my crap for years. At least my upbringing gave me the tools needed to deal with men of his caliber and pedigree.

Without much effort I had the photographer eating out of my hand and following every task needed to complete the shoot in one day instead of two.

My goal was a bit self-serving. If we completed the shoot, I’d have the next day with Hank. How we would spend the day was open for discussion, but I genuinely wanted to get to know him better. We both needed some time to understand this connection between us. Time to figure out if it was just physical, or something more.

Once we completed the shoot, I practically flew home. My driver gave me a placating smile and sped through the streets of downtown New York, narrowly missing a messenger that jetted out into traffic along the way. With jittery nerves I finally made it home and set down my briefcase on the side table. That’s when I heard a woman’s high-pitched giggle from down the hall.

I was eager to see Hank—a truth I would only decipher later—but the sound reminded me of a really bad day eight months ago. I had decided to surprise Grant by canceling a meeting and stopping by his house unexpectedly. I ended up catching Grant with one of his assistants, whom I referred to as whore number two. His hands were wrapped around both sides of her head as he jammed his tiny prick into her mouth.

It still hurt thinking about his deception, mostly because I allowed him to cheat on me not once, but twice. Hank’s deep throaty laugh floated down the hall breaking the fog of my past. The sound sent chills down my spine.

I found Hank sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His shirt was off and the golden skin of his chest shone like a Greek god’s in the amber lighting. A perky brunette in pink scrubs sat next to him holding a bowl of popcorn. They were focused on the TV nestled in the armoire to the side of the bed. Every so often Hank’s long, muscled forearm reached across the space, gripping for some popcorn, his eyes still glued to the screen. He didn’t see the look of admiration on the pretty woman’s face as his hand grazed her thigh.

I did.

Her breath caught and her body stilled as her gaze gobbled up Hank’s attributes. I cleared my throat. Two sets of eyes met mine. One dark and dangerous, the other startled and uncertain.

“Evening, Stud.” My voice sounded husky even to my ears.

“Angel,” Hank said in that perfect Texan drawl. The one that made me weak in the knees and lust coil deep within my belly.

The nurse jumped up, a few kernels of popcorn spilling over the edge of the bowl. She scrambled to pick them up and toss them into the garbage.

“Um, Miss Reynolds. I was just uh … ”

“Keeping Hank company?” I offered. Her eyes grew wide. She knotted her fingers nervously.

“Come here, Darlin’.” His voice begged no argument.

I sauntered over, cat-like, toward the cowboy. His good arm gripped my hip possessively. I relished his Neanderthal move. Letting the nurse know he belonged to me was exactly my intent even if it was only for show. His hand slid up to my waist and he pulled me into his lap. Our eyes locked. A clattering of items hitting the desk and a shuffling of papers could be heard from behind me signaling that the nurse was packing up her things for the day.


“How are you?” I licked my lips anticipating what he would do next.

“Better, now that you’re here.”

I turned my head and caught the nurse’s red face. “You’re dismissed,” I said.

“For good? I swear, Miss Reynolds, we didn’t … nothing happened.”

I turned to Hank, his lips quirked at the edge.

“No, just for the evening. We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow to change his bandages and prepare his therapy. That is all for tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said and exited the room lighting fast.

I turned back to Hank and opened my mouth to say something when his lips covered mine. Hank’s kiss was slow, sensual, exactly what I needed after a rough day. My fingers skittered down his chest, feeling the bunching and tightening of muscled pecks and strong abdominal muscles.

I pulled away to catch my breath. Hank’s lips went straight to my neck; his teeth grazed the skin sending shocks of lust splintering through me settling deep between my thighs. He swirled his tongue around a particularly tender spot on my clavicle. I shuddered.

“Did the nurse take care of you?” I asked as his nose nuzzled just behind my ear. I craned my neck to give him plenty of access to the sensitive skin.

“Yes, I’m healthy as a horse.” His teeth nipped at my collar bone and I closed my eyes. One large palm covered my neck. He made me feel so small and fragile in his arms. His dexterous fingers dug into the tight flesh, massaging the day’s knots away.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

He shook his head and nudged his nose into the crevice between my breasts, as much as the dress would allow. “God, you smell so f*cking good. I could just eat you for dinner.” His right hand boldly cupped my breast and squeezed. I pushed my aching flesh into his palm, needing more friction.

“Middag serveras,” Gustav’s heavy Swedish accent echoed down the hall.