He smiled despite the fact that the cuts on his face pulled and stung. “Hello.” Unfortunately, instead of the seductive purr he had been hoping for, a harsh croak emerged. He licked his dry lips with an even more parched tongue and tried again. “Water?”
She hesitated, but with some tricky maneuvering managed to keep the shotgun on him while she fetched a glass from a cupboard and filled it in the sink. She grabbed a straw from a drawer and stuck it inside.
She stopped about an arm’s length from where he lay and extended the glass to him. He tried to reach for it, but his hands were shaking so bad he couldn’t quite get a grip.
With a distinctly un-angel-like sigh, she knelt next to his pallet. She cast him a suspicious look, and he attempted to appear as non-threatening as possible. In fact, laid out as he was, he wasn’t sure how he could come off as threatening. She put the gun right next to her and held the straw to his lips. The moment the cool water hit his throat, he pulled harder at the straw, struggling to sit up to get closer to that wonderful feeling.
She placed her arm underneath his head to support him, and he almost moaned in pleasure. Her chest was close to his face, so close he could simply turn his head and rest it against her soft breasts. The last thing he wanted was for her to run away from him, though, so he refrained.
After the glass was drained, he waited for her to release him quickly. Instead, she slowly lowered his head until it rested on the pillow. She scooted back, picked up the gun and pointed it at him again.
He tried not to pant. He’d never realized he had such a thing for tough chicks.
He cleared his throat and tried to speak again. “Hello.” Much better.
She licked her lips. “Hello. How do you feel?”
Like someone had run him over and then backed up to finish the job. His machismo decided to pick now to kick in, though. “Not too bad.”
“Yeah?” She was staring at him so hard he thought she might go cross-eyed in a minute.
“Got…something on my face?” He tried to smile so she’d know he was teasing.
The woman shook her head, in frustration, it seemed. “Close your eyes.”
Alex didn’t take orders very well. Nonetheless, he didn’t question her, since closing his eyes felt more than a little good. Her cool hand rested on his chest and he almost whimpered in relief.
And then…her hand wasn’t cool anymore, but warm. Heat tingled throughout his entire body from his fingertips to his toes. Energy burned through him, until he felt like he could take on a mountain and win.
Stunned, he opened his eyes in time to find her dropping her hand from his chest. She swayed on her knees, catching herself on her palm on the ground. Her face was pale, the skin under her eyes bruised.
“Are you okay?” He felt much stronger than he had five minutes ago. No marathons yet, but he could speak without hurting now.
She waved a hand at him, breathing slow and measured. From experience, he knew she was trying to breathe through pain. Why did she suddenly look as sick as he had felt? What the hell had she done?
“Feeling better?” she bit out.
He focused on her. Easier to do that than consider the unexplainable. She seemed more stable now. “Yes. And you?”
She raised one finely arched eyebrow. “Always.”
His mind was so muddled, it felt like he had dozens of thoughts, all just out of reach. He grabbed for the most urgent. “I remember you.”
“Do you?”
“My angel.”
“I assure you, I’m no angel.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her. Despite all of her obvious fleshly charms, there was something a bit otherworldly about her. Combined with her oh-so-interesting little trick… “What’s your name?”
She hesitated. “Genevieve.”
Beautiful. It suited her, musical and soft. “Genevieve. I’m Alejandro—Alex.”
“I know. You told me that first night. Don’t even try to remember. You were out of it.”
“Yes. Where am I?”
