Free Pandora's Box (previously Worth the Wait, a Zebra print best seller) by Kat Attalla

his watch. Four o’clock. What had awakened him? He shook his head to clear away the sleep.
    The room was silent. Then he heard a soft whimper, like that of a child. He sat up and looked toward the bed. The light of a street lamp cast a beam across the bed where Charlie sat huddled in a ball.
    “Charlie?” he whispered. He moved to the edge of the bed and tried again. “Charlie.”
    She lifted her head to meet his gaze. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her nose was running. She wiped the back of her sleeve across her face.
    “Sorry,” she choked out, followed by a series of hiccups. The apology cut like a knife and added to the guilt that was already gnawing at him.
    He sat down and slid his arm around her shoulder. She tensed and he stopped where he was. She didn’t move away. “Did you hear something outside that frightened you?”
    She shook her head. “Bad dream.”
    His hand stroked her arm tenderly, reassuringly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “No.”
    “Okay. Do you want to go back to sleep now?”
    Charlie sniffed. “No. Can’t I just stay like this for a minute?”
    “If that’s what you want.”
    Her body trembled from the cool breeze filtering in through the window. He retrieved the cotton quilt that had fallen on the floor and placed it over her. She snuggled against him, her body molded against his. Her delicate scent enveloped him. He held her close, stroking her back in slow, rhythmic circles until she relaxed in the cradle of his arms.
    He felt a feather-light kiss on his neck, so small that he might have imagined it. She raised her head and kissed his cheek. Her lips were as soft as silk against his face. Did she know what she was doing?
    Reminding himself that the objective was to comfort and calm her, he stroked her hair, her arms, and the delicate curve of her tiny waist. With a sigh of pleasure, she arched in closer. Heat radiated from her, igniting his own need, and he lost sight of the objective. He turned and claimed her mouth, slowly savoring the sweet taste of her.
    Charlie, on the other hand, seemed hungry for more. Pulling herself into his lap, brushing against him, she tested his control. Did she want him? She seemed to know what she was doing. Her kiss was inviting, given freely, and without hesitation.
    He wrapped his arms around her to draw her closer. The possessive gesture had an adverse effect on her. Desire turned to panic and she struggled to free herself.
    “Stop,” she cried out.
    In trying to reassure her he’d managed to scare the hell out of her. As he loosened his grip, she pushed free of his arms and slid down to the floor, muttering an apology under her breath.
    “Don’t you apologize. You have every right to tell me to stop.”
    She sat against the wall with her arms wrapped tightly around bent knees. He hunkered down in front of her. She looked more embarrassed than frightened. “I feel so ... I can’t explain . . .”
    He ran one finger over her lips and shook his head. “You don’t have to.”
    “But I started it.”
    “It doesn’t matter who started it. If it makes you uncomfortable, then that’s where it ends.” Damian tilted his head to look under her lowered lashes. He brushed away a tear with his thumb. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
    “I’m sorry I woke you.”
    “I’m the one who crashed the party.”
    A tiny laugh mingled with a hiccup. “True. I can’t sleep now. You take the bed.”
    “No. You lie down and I’m sure you’ll be asleep in minutes.” He gave her a hand up and held back the blanket as she crawled into bed. She curled around a pillow, holding it snugly against her body. He sat in a chair, watching while she tossed and turned for several minutes. Eventually exhaustion won out and she fell asleep.
    He walked over to the bed and gazed down at her. Her eyelashes fluttered against her skin and a sigh escaped her lips. He pressed a light kiss against her cheek, ignoring the throbbing in his loins that the