Fortune's Special Delivery. Michelle Major

she’d touched him, her innocence the most erotic thing he’d ever encountered... His fingers trailed through her hair, which was soft as spun silk. He remembered how it felt to have those thick, blond waves fanned out across his chest as she slept. Her tongue touched his, hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure whether he wanted the kiss to deepen.

      There were no words for what Charles wanted from Alice. His need was so elemental, the potential ramifications so jumbled in his mind that he could barely form a coherent thought. His body grew heavy with desire. Desire he understood. Then he felt something in his heart, a slight shift from normal, and a skipped beat that had him tearing his mouth away from hers. In all Charles’s many interactions with women, his protected heart had never come into play. No one had ever come close to breaching his defenses.

      Until now.

      Until Alice.

      “I have to go,” he said as he lurched to his feet. “There’s a... I need to... I’ll call you tomorrow.”

      She stared up at him as if he had just sprouted a horn from his forehead. Her fingers pressed to her mouth like she couldn’t believe it had, moments earlier, been crushed under his. What the hell was wrong with him? Alice told him she believed in him, gave him a chance to be a father and first thing out of the gate he practically mauled her. So much for his legendary charm and experience. He felt like a randy schoolboy with his first crush.

      “Thank you for the gifts,” she said after a moment.

      “Of course.” He ran a hand through his hair even as he backed toward the door of her apartment. “I can bring more. If there’s anything you need—”

      “No.” She glanced at Flynn, who was now dozing under the activity gym, and then stood. “You’ve done more than enough, Charles.” Her hands were clenched at her sides in tight fists. If he had to guess, she was trying hard not to physically push him from her home. That was no less than what he deserved.

      “I’ll call you,” he repeated, and turned for the door. But before opening it, he swung back, dropped to his knees and reached for Flynn’s chubby hand. “Goodbye, little man,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.”