Free Say No To Joe? by Lori Foster Page A

forgotten that you’re hurt? What if he’d had friends waiting outside? Or if he’d pulled a gun?” She couldn’t help frowning in annoyance. “You’re also in your damn underwear.”
    â€œSo?”
    It figured that Joe wouldn’t care about something like that. “Well, your neighbors are peeking out at you now.”
    His head swiveled about, and he took in the curious faces of the nearby residents to the left and right of his apartment. His hand tightened on the back of her neck until she went on tiptoe. To an elderly man, Joe said, “Call the cops, will you, Rob? Someone broke into my place.”
    â€œSure thing, Joe.” Rob looked thrilled for the chance to take part in the action.
    â€œMarilyn,” he said to a forty-something woman with two kids peeking around from behind her. “I’m sorry we woke you.”
    â€œThat’s all right, Joe.” She glanced between the two of them. “Are you okay?”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œYou don’t look fine.”
    â€œHe’s not,” Luna told her, and became the beneficiary of another glare. She shrugged, a little apologetic, but not much. She’d done what she thought best. She’d do it again if necessary.
    â€œI’m fine,” Joe said again, then told Marilyn, “I’m sorry we disturbed you. Go on back to your bed.”
    The woman gave Luna a curious and somewhat pitying look, then ducked inside.
    â€œWhy’d she look at me like that?” Luna asked, trying to ignore the fact that Joe still had her pinned to the wall. His hand on her neck was in no way hurtful, but she wouldn’t exactly call it a loving embrace either.
    â€œProbably because she’s smarter than you.” So saying, Joe turned and marched her back into the apartment. Once through the door, he kicked it shut, but didn’t release her. Luna found herself pressed to the wall again, and this time Joe didn’t hold back.
    â€œDon’t you ever, ever, get in my way again. Do you understand me?”
    It would be most unwise to provoke him while he was in this mood. She should soothe him, calm him down . . . “You’re not my boss.”
    Joe’s eyes flared, the blue positively glowing with molten rage. “You could have gotten hurt.”
    His roar damn near stopped her heart, but still she shrugged. “I wasn’t.”
    Teeth grinding, he said, “Luna—”
    She reached up and touched his jaw in a butterfly caress. He was warm, alive. Safe. Her voice shook when she whispered, “God, Joe, you about scared me to death.”
    A muscle ticked in his temple. His gaze, burning into hers, dipped to her mouth—and stayed there. He drew a fast, short breath, then another, and suddenly he was kissing her.
    Or rather, devouring her.
    Luna hung in his arms, her senses devastated by the heat and taste and rock-hard feel of him. His tongue thrust in, his mouth grinding against hers almost brutally. One hot palm opened over her breast and massaged, squeezed, shaped. He gave a groan of pain or pleasure, she wasn’t sure which.
    She tried to gather her wits, but the bombardment of her senses was too much. She wanted this, she wanted him. His pelvis pressed into hers, insistent, moving in a parody of the sex act, further demolishing her control.
    She turned her face away to gasp for air and managed to inhale his hot, male scent. “Joe.”
    He reclaimed her mouth, refusing to let her move, to withdraw. Overwhelmed by the onslaught, she gave up, wrapped both arms around his strong neck, and held on. Oh, God, she should have remembered how his kiss affected her, but she hadn’t, and now it was just too delicious to resist.
    Everything changed with her surrender. His hold tightened, those massive arms of his keeping her plastered to his body, but it now felt cherishing rather than restrictive. His kiss gentled, went deeper, slower, longer. She could hear