More Blazing Bedtime Stories: Once Upon a Mattress by Julie Leto, Leslie Kelly

up.
    “If he had been smarter, the bastard could have been here, inside, waiting for you to get home.”
    The thought made that roiling surge of anger rise in him again, but he quickly shoved it away. He’d deal with the attacker later. Lucas had his scent. The man wouldn’t be able to hide from Lucas’s rage no matter which side of the border he was on.
    “What?” she whispered.
    “Finally.” Dropping the razor, he approached the bed. Ashe stared down at her, he noted the color in her cheeks. When he’d wet a cloth to clean her cut, he’d also taken a minute to wash all the makeup—not to mention dirt and gravel—off her face.
    She was, as he’d expected, beyond beautiful.
    He wondered if she even realized it. If the clothes, the makeup, the attitude, were all because she didn’t care how she looked, or because she did care and didn’t want anyone else to realize how striking she truly was.
    He suspected the latter. She’d been hiding in plain sight.
    She blinked a few times. “How long have I been out?”
    “Minutes. Ten at most.”
    She shifted and slowly sat up, looking at him with frank disbelief. “And in ten minutes, you carried me three blocks home, broke into my house, put me to bed, then had time for a shave? ”
    He answered with a shrug. Because, yes, that’s what had happened. Her slight weight hadn’t slowed him down.
    Penny continued to stare up at him. The confusion slowly left her face, and color entered it as her gaze grew more intimate. She parted her lips to breathe and the pulse in her throat, which he could see—and almost hear—fluttered.
    God, the woman really needed to learn how to hide what she was thinking. Considering he was trying like hell to keep his own secrets, knowing how much she wanted him didn’t help.
    Later. Want me later. When I don’t have to be strong enough to resist you. He had to be strong now. Not only because he still had a job to do—bringing her home—but because he couldn’t take what the woman was offering until she understood exactly who she was offering it to.
    She wasn’t entirely happy about it either. Her small jaw stiffened, as if she needed to imbue herself with resolve. “I can’t believe you used my razor.”
    He shrugged. “I’m not worried about using something that has come in contact with your legs.” Far, far from it.
    More of that color appeared, more of that confusion. More of that feisty attitude. “Yeah, well, how do you know my legs are all I use it on? Huh? Maybe I use it somewhere a whole lot more intimate than that.”
    He considered her words for a moment, then realized what she meant. This time, he was sure his face filled with color, so hot was the explosion that rocked through him. His heart was definitely beating harder, his breaths thick, each one tasting like her .
    “That I’d like to see,” he admitted before he could stop himself. He’d heard of women over here sporting that smooth, shorn look, but he’d never actually seen it himself. The trend might eventually make its way over to Elatyria—with the number of travelers back and forth between the lands on the rise, some other customs were certainly making their way across.
    Frankly, he could have done without ever seeing a gnome with a one-inch ear gauge.
    She sputtered, rising from the bed. “I was kidding.”
    Shoving away a flash of disappointment, he insisted, “You don’t have to get up to defend yourself from me. I wasn’t about to rip your clothes off to see if you were telling the truth.”
    Those lavender eyes hadn’t darkened with fright; she didn’t fear him. Which was good, she didn’t need to. Although how she could know that, he couldn’t say. He wondered if she felt it too, the instant connection. The certainty that they were supposed to be together. It went beyond mere wanting. Though, right now, mere wanting was pretty powerful in and of itself.
    “I’m sorry, I’m being a shrew. You bring out the beast in me for some