"I won't hurt you," he rasped quietly but stern.
"I don't know you."
"You know enough that I saved you from becoming a rape and/or murder victim," he said factually. Tossing open his truck door, he fluidly slid out and held out a helping hand. His grim laser stare waited for her to take his proffered palm.
"Thank you," she whispered.
If she hadn't been looking directly at him, she would have missed the subtle softening of his striking features.
"You're welcome. Let's get you inside then we can discuss why the hell you're walking home after three in the morning." He glared.
She slid her hand into his large, calloused palm. Closing his fingers around hers, he balanced her when she climbed out of his oversized vehicle.
Ascending the steps to the second floor apartment, he followed so close she could feel his body heat radiating off him. Or was that adrenaline remnants messing with her?
Nothing about this was right or normal. A man she didn't know saved her, but that didn't make it all right for him to know where she lived.
She wheeled around. "What's your name? How do you know where I live? And how did you end up saving me?"
His lips quirked. "So, not only gorgeous but smart too." He studied her. "A lethal combo."
"Answer the questions," she demanded.
Reaching into his dark denim jeans pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up, blowing out the first puff. "You want to do this on the steps after three a.m. with what just happened? Fine, Derk Forester."
"Derk," she repeated.
"Yep."
"Is that short for anything?"
"Nope."
"How do you know where I live?"
He leaned casually against the railing, seemingly not a care in the world. "Did some research after you kissed me."
"Wha−" she sputtered. "I did not kiss you. You mauled me."
"So you say." His chocolate brown eyes glittered humorously. "I recall the events quite differently."
"Are you insane?"
"Nope."
"How do you know where I live?" she whispered, her blood racing. Panic started to take residence again. He continued to refuse to answer her.
"Hey," he said, stepping in front of her. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. It was simple research on my part," he said, his deep raspy voice soothing, reassuring. "It's a good thing I did too, right?" He crouched down to look into her eyes. "Right?"
Her hands went straight to her hips. He was purposely being vague. No, she couldn't argue with the fact he saved her, but that didn't make this entire situation acceptable. She tapped her right foot. "You aren't very forthcoming considering I know nothing about you except that you prowl the night and save women in distress." She looked him up and down. "But I get the feeling that's not your normal MO."
Chuckling, he said, "Ah no, I don't prowl the night with a cape looking to save the city, women, children, or cats stuck in trees." He motioned up the steps. "Up you go."
She rolled her eyes, turned and muttered, "Great, a bossy smartass hero."
"No hero here, baby." He snorted.
When she unlocked and opened the apartment door, she refused to welcome him inside. She knew nothing of this man, but apparently he knew too much about her. Name. Work. Address. Wait, she just moved in today, how the hell…
He stood on the threshold, his large body eating up the doorway, as if waiting for an invitation.
"Thank you, again," she said, hoping he got the hint she wasn't inviting him in.
His dark brown eyes raked her over. Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he flicked it over the railing and blew out a final puff. One hard step toward her, his mouth descended upon hers before she realized what was happening. Again.
This time she tried to escape using her available strength, but he surrounded her. There wasn’t a bar to hinder his power. Trapped and engulfed by his strength, his right hand tangled into her hair, his left wrapped firmly around her waist and pulled her flush against him. How he managed to engulf her yet make her feel safe, she didn't know. But he did. This was different than the frightening episode. He wasn't using his size or strength to intimidate or scare her, he was using his physical muscle to wrap her into him in a blanket of seduction.
That mixture that she had a brief taste of at the bar assaulted her once again. His wonderful flavor committed to memory and pushed out the possible horror that he'd prevented. Was that his objective? Was he taking those potential nightmares away?
When she opened for him, he didn't hesitate to plunge his tongue into her mouth, dancing with hers. Her arms went to his chest, fiercely clinging to his tee shirt. What if he hadn't shown up when he did? If it hadn't been for him, she'd...nope, she needed to shove those thoughts out of her head. She refused to go there. If she dwelled on it for even a moment, she'd lose her mind going over each possible deadly scenario. One of her personal attributes was how she was capable of quickly ignoring any potential psychological damaging occurrence. Hence totally glossing over her ex's extracurricular activities.