Hot Stuff (Hot Zone 1)

He might have successfully fought temptation last night, but only because he hadn't touched her. Hadn't allowed himself to connect emotionally. That was then. With her this upset even in sleep, he had no choice but to break his vow to keep his distance.

Unless he wanted to watch her suffer. He didn't.

"Annie." He reached over and pulled her tight against him, shaking her gently. "Wake up, sweetheart. You're having a bad dream."

Her head turned from side to side. "We'll be good, I promise. Don't separate us," she pleaded, then suddenly jumped up and looked around with unseeing eyes.

"Annabelle," he said softly.

She turned and focused on him.

He saw in her face the exact moment she realized where she was.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, ducking her head and not meeting his gaze. "I should go." She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her leave.

"Tell me about the dream." He brushed her hair with his hand.

She eased back into his arms and her muscles seemed to relax a little. "I've had these nightmares for as long as I can remember."

Holding her tight, her lithe body molded to his, he inhaled the fragrant scent of her hair and fought his body's response and the desire building. A desire to ease her pain the only way he knew how, to bury himself deep inside her body and make her think of nothing except him.

But even he knew better than to think sex was the answer to anyone's problems. "The dreams started when your parents died?" he asked.

"Yes. I told you I wasn't even sure Uncle Yank would take us in."

He swallowed hard. "I thought you just meant you were frightened and made that assumption."

"It was more than that. I heard the social worker tell him that if he didn't take all three of us, we'd go to foster care. Separate homes."

She swallowed a sob and he thought his heart would crack at the admission. "But your uncle kept all of you."

"And I kept an eye on my sisters. I made sure they behaved, or I tried to. I figured if we were good girls, he wouldn't

send us away."

He massaged her shoulder with one hand, trying to ease a pain too ingrained for mere reassurance to touch. "Yank would never have let you be separated."

She tried to laugh, but choked instead. "I was twelve and I had no way of knowing that," she said, her voice trembling.

"Good point. And these dreams?" he asked, pushing when he should let things go.

She sighed. "They come almost nightly."

His gut told him he'd regret what he was about to say next. "But you didn't have any the first night we were together. At least not that I heard."

"You didn't reject me that night." She drew a deep breath and rolled over to meet his gaze. "Look, I'm not trying to give you a guilt trip, it's just fact," she said, her tone earnest. "But last night you let me stay because I begged. You didn't want me here and I'm sure the dream came back because in my heart, I knew that."

He winced, his gut churning, his emotions too wrapped up with this woman. "I want you here. It's just that it's complicated."

A soft smile curved her lips. "Welcome to my world."

He couldn't help but laugh and at that moment, the alarm clock Annabelle had set the night before went off, signaling it was time for her to leave before her uncle or Lola woke up, ventured downstairs and found them together.

"Saved by the bell," Annabelle murmured and once again tried to roll away, this time to rise for the day.

Though he should have let her go, he allowed his heart to overrule his head. "Annabelle?" he said, pulling her back.

"Yes?"