Chapter 7

Derek stared at the door for a long time after Annabella closed it. There was a tickle in his brain that usually signified the answer to a pressing question, if only he could focus.

Unfortunately, he had no idea what the question was, and he couldn’t focus worth a damn right now on anything other than her lips against his cheek and her breath along his neck.

He fought the urge to run upstairs, pound on the door, grab her and kiss her until her body throbbed the way his did.

Derek cursed and turned away. If it wasn’t for his rich fantasy life, he’d have no sex life at all.

He should go directly home. But he made the mistake of glancing up, and then he was no longer moving but staring.

Her lights were on. He could see her shadow moving back and forth behind the curtains. She wasn’t sleeping. What was she doing?

He had no idea, but since he was an inquisitive man, he leaned against the lamppost and watched awhile.

“You’re my hero,” she’d said.

Those words had him as curious as the odd movements that continued unabated in the upstairs room. She had no idea how hard he wanted to become her hero.

He had learned early on that allowing other people to affect how he felt about himself was asking to feel pretty bad for a whole lot of his life. He’d been about to tell her that when she’d kissed him, and he’d lost any trace of a brain.

Her mouth was soft, her breath sweet. He’d been unable to keep himself from touching her skin. Thank God for self-control. Otherwise, he might have grabbed her with both massive hands and scared her to death.

Bella must have sensed how he burned for more, because she’d held very still and stared at his neck, no doubt terrified to meet his eyes and give him ready access to her lips.

By that time, he’d regained his control. Derek was adept at hiding what he felt. Being laughed at enough times would do that for a man. The kiss had been about gratitude; he’d known that all along. But tell it to his body. Why was he attracted to Bella?

Because when he looked at her, he didn’t see Annabella Reed, the gorgeous girl who dismissively alienated many of her classmates anymore; he saw the vulnerable, uncertain girl who lurked in her eyes, and he wanted to help her, protect her, and heal her.

Derek frowned. Heal her? Where had he gotten the idea she needed to be healed?

He focused again on her window, contemplated the shadow that continued to move this way and that. Vulnerable and uncertain did not describe the Annabella Reed he had known. But Derek knew what vulnerability and uncertainty looked like. He saw them often enough in the mirror.

That was no doubt why he felt the need to heal her. Because deep down, he wanted to be healed, too.

Derek snorted. There was nothing wrong with Bella, and the sooner he stopped trying to be her hero, the better off he would be. Delusions of knighthood always got him into trouble.