A Perfect Chance by Becca Lee Page B

was to wake her after the night she'd had. I wondered if her nightmares were about the attack in Melbourne and if they played out the same every time and every night.
    I glanced down at her. She looked so damn young, and far too innocent to be in my arms. But I also knew better. Diesel had told me how close she'd come to being killed, that she’d even had a gun aimed at her head, and came away with a scar on her chest. I gritted my teeth, looking away, and prevented myself from dragging her even closer into my arms.
    Loss and scumbags: those were two areas of my life that I wished I knew nothing about. Instead, I felt the gripping pain of loss daily. It weighed heavily in my soul, while the other, the scumbags of this world, I actively sought out.
    A breathy sigh pulled my attention back to Lena. She shifted, virtually lying on top of me, her knee brushing against me once more. The contact was firmer, dragging a groan from my lips. I held still, hoping I didn't wake her, though knowing I really should try to escape from beneath her.
    For the first time in years, the desire for something more, something intangible, became more urgent. And all of it revolved around the woman asleep in my arms.
    Another sigh escaped her lips and her hand moved up from my chest to the juncture between my shoulder and neck. Her head snuggled in closer to me, her face angling slightly so her warm breath brushed over my skin. She was a goddamn siren, every sigh calling to me, drawing me closer to risking something I had no right to risk in the first place.
    I knew when she woke. With the new position of her head, I couldn't see her face, but her breathing changed and her muscles became rigid. Remaining still and breathing steadily, I waited for her to react. No amount of homework on anxiety had prepared me for this. Lena shifted her leg slightly, rubbing against my hard cock. I grunted, and she immediately pulled back, looking at me in alarm.
    "Shit, erm… I'm so sorry."
    With her leg no longer against my dick, I was able to breathe again. I offered a light smile and a small shrug. "It's all good. You needed to sleep."
    She moved her hand and brushed it against her mouth before sighing lightly in apparent relief. I quirked my brow.
    An awkward laugh escaped her lips. "Just checking for drool."
    I barked out an unexpected laugh. It was not what I was expecting to come out of her mouth at all. This woman was full of damn surprises. "No drool," I said with a grin.
    Her small smile stretched into a full grin. "That's a relief. The last thing I needed was to drool on a hot guy." Her eyes widened, and I was sure mine mirrored hers. A sexy blush spread across her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. "So, erm…" She cleared it again. "What time is it?"
    It pained me as much as I celebrated her change in subject. Anything less would be treading on dangerous ground. I glanced at the clock. "Just gone seven thirty." Looking back at her, I noticed her embarrassment had calmed, and she seemed less vulnerable. "There's no rush. It's Saturday." I had no fucking idea what the day of the week had to do with anything. Usually I was at the office anyway on a Saturday. It was a day I could actually get stuck into work without the distraction Lena presented.
    It wasn't that she was a hindrance. Hell, she'd already gotten me organised and smoothed over new gigs with ease. Her working for me made my life a damn sight easier, but that didn't mean every time I heard her move around the reception, or I caught a glance of her, that I didn't get lost in the thought of burying my face between her thighs. This made Saturday easier to get work that required my full focus done.
    Shit, it's Saturday. The implication hit me. "So," I ventured, my eyes following her as she sat up in the bed next to me and crossed her legs. I fought to keep my eyes from roaming over her form. "What do you usually do on a weekend?"
    Her eyes snapped to mine and then she shrugged. "I just hang out