Duty To Protect. Beth Cornelison

hot and sweet, and when her head swam dizzily this time, she knew it had nothing to do with the lingering effects of oxygen deprivation.

      Riley cradled the back of her head with one large hand and pulled her hips closer to his with his other. The intimate contact of their bodies made her womb tighten and weep with longing.

      Ginny savored the ebb and flow of his kiss, giving back every bit of the passion and heat he showed her, even as her brain screamed for her to take it slow. She had a lot to learn about Riley before she could risk getting more involved with him.

      With a soft brush of his thumb along her cheek, he pulled away and grinned unrepentantly. “That is called follow through.”

      Ginny sighed contentedly. “I do love a man of action.”

      As Riley swept a flyaway wisp of her hair back from her eyes, a flash of color and movement snagged Ginny’s attention.

      She cut her gaze toward the distraction. A police car cruised slowly through the parking lot. The cop’s presence reminded her why Riley was with her, why the extra patrols were needed.

      She’d been attacked last night. She could have died.

      A shudder shimmied through her, and she backed away from Riley’s arms.

      “Ginny?” He narrowed a concerned gaze on her.

      She nodded toward the parking lot. “We have company.”

      “What?” Riley turned and looked out over the cars. When he spotted the cruiser, he gave the officer a little wave. “Why don’t we get you inside now, where we can have a little privacy?”

      “Privacy? You forget…my mom is on her way. She has to see for herself that I’ve gotten home safely and have locked my door.”

      “You’re lucky to have a mother who cares so much.” A spark lit Riley’s gray eyes as he tucked her into his embrace.

      “I guess. So does your mom make a big fuss over you, too, worrying and nagging?”

      The light in Riley’s eyes faded as he helped her up the steps to her third floor apartment. Though he forced a grin, Ginny noticed the change in his demeanor, felt his muscles tense.

      “Yeah, my mom worries…but I…don’t see her much.”

      “Why not?”

      He hesitated. “She lives out by Lagniappe Lake.”

      “The lake is only about thirty minutes outside town.” At her door, Ginny fumbled in her purse with her left hand, searching for her keys.

      He shrugged and shifted his weight. “We, uh…just get busy. Time passes. I’ll see her at Thanksgiving.” He extended a hand toward Ginny’s purse. “Need help?”

      She sent him a pointed look and smiled. “No, thank you. I’ve got it.” She dangled the keys from her left hand to prove her point, then jabbed at the keyhole.

      And missed. But her poor aim was more a factor of the scrapes and small gouges beside her doorknob than left-handed awkwardness. The damage to her door was new. And distinctive.

      Someone had been trying to break into her apartment. And she’d bet a week’s pay that someone had red hair and a history of spousal abuse. Walt Compton had been here. Could still be here.

      Which begged the question, what if Riley hadn’t been with her?

      Ginny shuddered. Maybe having him stay in her apartment was a good idea after all….