He had a protective streak a mile wide. Maybe more. The children on his property, the older couple, Emeline, even his partner and his partner’s woman, all were family to him. He had added to that growing list Genevieve and Lourdes, and especially her. She was his number-one priority, but he would never let the others down. She couldn’t see beyond that, but that trait, that unswerving loyalty and protective instinct appealed to her as nothing else could.

Then she couldn’t think. Couldn’t talk. He changed the angle of his hips and the friction was exquisite. Perfect.

“With me,” he ordered softly.

She did exactly as he demanded and she wasn’t certain she had anything to do with the decision. It was his voice. The buildup until the tension was unbearable. Wanting to please him. Wanting him to give her that much pleasure. At the sound of his low command, her body came apart, taking his with it. The burn was fierce and unrelenting. She keened his name as the firestorm swept through her, her gaze held captive by his. She saw and felt the pleasure sweeping through him, pure bliss, throwing them both into a place they drifted together, a kind of paradise she found there in his eyes.

They remained locked together for some time until reality began to encroach. She heard the sound of a child’s laughter. Little Lourdes. Charlotte loved her laugh. The murmur of Genevieve’s voice, soft, teasing, imploring her to finish eating or she’d make the child do the dishes. More laughter. Lourdes didn’t buy it. But hearing them meant they were close to the kitchen, and she was stark naked. More, she’d had unprotected sex again.

“Don’t.” It was an order. His fist tightened in her hair. “I told you, you will not get pregnant. I’m clean and so, obviously, are you. We’re together. A new beginning. I’m not going anywhere, so let yourself enjoy what we have when we manage to have it. Lourdes is already asking for you in spite of your friend trying to distract her.”

“Oh, no. I’ve got to get up.” She pushed at his chest to move him, but it was like trying to move a heavy oak tree. He didn’t budge. She tried to look away, but he shook his head.

“You’re doing it again, trying to put distance between us so you can talk yourself out of what happened. Not this time. We’re together. We. Are. Together. You realize you have to get over panicking every time I touch you like this.”

“I know. I do. It’s just that I don’t think when you’re around. My brain doesn’t work. I felt you carrying me, but we went through the house with me naked. Anyone could have seen us. Lourdes could have…”

“I don’t share. Not. Ever. We’re on the top floor and no one saw me carry you here – I made certain of that. I will always protect you, Charlotte. In every way. I have clothes here you can get into, but first I need the truth about how sore you are.”

She blushed at that. Of course she was sore. He was still inside her, stretching her even though he was only half hard, but it would be embarrassing telling him that.

“Not embarrassing. Talk to me. I don’t want to take from you what you aren’t willing to give me, but in matters of safety and health, I have no choice.”

She didn’t understand that, but he was right. If a relationship between them was going to work out, she had to be able to communicate with him about every subject – especially sex. “I’m sore. Definitely. But I like knowing why.” That was truthful and still a little embarrassing, but she managed to keep her gaze on his.

“I can take the sting away.”

Reluctantly he opened his fist and allowed her hair to fall loose down her back. She hadn’t remembered him taking the topknot out, but then she didn’t remember him carrying her up to the third floor. She’d been that far gone. He slid out of her and then pressed his palm to her mound. For a moment there was intense heat. She swore she felt him moving in her. Not him. He was right there, solid and real, but when she looked at his eyes, he seemed to have “checked out.” And then she blinked and he was back.

“Still as sore?”

She wasn’t. “Oh. My. God. You have the gift of healing. Not only are you telepathic, but you actually can heal.”

“A little,” he admitted. “I have a couple of gifts. I’m not as good at healing as a couple of others I know, but it gets me by.” He eased off of her and stood, pulling her up with him. “The bathroom is through that door if you want to clean up, and I put clothes right there on the chair for you. You can get dressed up here.”

“Where did these clothes come from, Tariq? Because I didn’t buy them.” She touched the striped royal blue bra and the matching lace panties. She could never afford anything like the lingerie he gave her. The jeans were soft and fit like a glove when she drew them up over her hips. The thin camisole was formfitting, a little tighter than she was used to wearing, and emphasized her curves while drawing attention to her narrow rib cage and smaller waist. She didn’t want to point out that, although beautiful, the camisole fit in a way she was certain drew attention to her hips and butt.

“A friend owns a boutique. I called her with your sizes last night. I was worried about you going back to your house in order to get more clothes so I had some delivered in your size, Genevieve’s and Lourdes’s. That way, your three stalkers as well as Fridrick won’t have the chance of trailing you back here. They aren’t going to think to look for you here. Without you going in and out often, that minimizes the danger to everyone else.”

She hadn’t thought of that – bringing danger to the others who lived there. She didn’t like the very real possibility nor did she like that she hadn’t thought of it herself. She actually felt the color drain from her face. “Maybe I should…”

“Don’t say it,” he chastised, slipping his arm around her waist. “Fridrick and Vadim are after the children and Emeline. By being here, you haven’t increased the danger. And no, I’m not reading your mind, but your expression is transparent. You aren’t paying for the clothes, either. It was my decision to purchase them. I didn’t consult with you, so that’s on me.”

He nuzzled her neck, and truthfully, every protest died just like that, with his lips on her. He took her hand once she was dressed. Strangely, she hadn’t seen him dress, but he was back in his immaculate suit as they went downstairs together.