Night Angel by Lisa Kessler

right hand up, caressing her cheek. Her lashes lowered as she turned her head, her lips brushing his palm. When she met his eyes again, unworthiness swelled in his chest. He’d bared his scars, his wounds, and somehow this angel in front of him didn’t see him as weak. But she didn’t know that her cousin was dead—because of his inability to protect them.
    She stared up at him, her voice filling his mind. I was with my mother and my brother that day. We were walking through Belfast, down Shankill Road.
    Colin’s chest tightened. He remembered the Shankill Road bombing. She was lucky to be alive.
    While we walked in front of Frizzell’s fish shop, the bomb exploded. All I remember was a sound so big it threw me across the street. Paramedics performed CPR on me for five minutes. They brought me back. I woke up terrified, in pain, and lost. They didn’t know where my mother was or my brother, and if they did… Her eyes welled with tears. I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything, not even myself. I screamed until they sedated me.
    Colin embraced her, kissing her hair. I wish it could have been different.
    She nodded against his chest. My mom survived, but I lost my older brother that day, and my hearing never returned. I spent two years angry at God, at the whole world.
    What changed?
    She leaned back just far enough to meet his eyes, her lips so close that her breath warmed his skin. I finally realized that nothing would change what happened. I couldn’t travel through time and pull my mother down a different street. She paused, the corners of her mouth curving into a bittersweet smile. One day, I went back to the piano, and I played. Since I was a little girl, I dreamed of playing in large concert halls, with symphonies. The bombing stole that dream from me, but I could still play. The vibrations come through my feet, through my fingers. That day, sitting on the piano bench, I decided deafness didn’t define me. I am so much more than my ears.
    His pulse quickened as he bridged the distance between them. Yes, you are.
    His lips caressed hers, taking his time, relishing the softness of her mouth. She moaned aloud, and blood rushed to his groin. There was more he should tell her, about himself, about Benedict and Muriel, but everything paled the moment her hands moved up his back, exploring his bare skin. Her touch sent fire through his veins.
    He’d been so entrenched in his own self-pity, lost since the demon attack, he’d forgotten the miracle of a woman’s touch, and Juliana was unlike any woman he’d ever known. Hiding his injury had caused him to retreat, but she’d lured him back into the world. She made him feel alive, mortal.
    Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to tangle slowly with hers. His fingers slid into her hair, cradling her head while his other hand moved down her back and over her jeans, pressing her tight against him. She rocked her hips, eliciting a growl deep in his throat as she teased him through his trousers.
    No woman had ever inspired a hunger like this.
    He walked her toward the sofa, claiming her lips over and over. His hands slipped under the back of her top, exploring her soft skin. It would be so easy to use his speed to remove all their clothes, leaving no barriers between their flesh, but he wanted to savor every touch. She stopped when her legs bumped the couch. 
    Colin broke the kiss, his gaze locked on hers. I want you.
    Her dark eyes studied his, her lips reddened from his kisses. He should stop. He should tell her about Muriel, focus on stopping Benedict. But the look in her eyes… Her desire mirrored his own. They could live a little longer in this moment. It was better for her not to know, to think her cousin had left town. It would save her from the pain. Wasn’t that what he’d decided? He couldn’t think—he was too swept up in her. 
    Finally, her beautiful voice filled his mind. I want you, too.
    He didn’t hesitate, raising her shirt and pulling it