The moment Faith opened the door and Alec saw her, he knew his suspicions were right on the mark. He felt differently about her than he had about anyone in a long time. More so, if he dug deep enough into his memory. She chased away the dark. And somehow, since he’d known her, his writing had grown stronger.

Yet she acted like she could take him or leave him. Faith may have seemed aloof, but he suspected that under the surface there was strength and heart. Right next to insecurity and uncertainty. In fact, she seemed like someone hell-bent on taking care of herself, but failing.

That did funny things to his chest.

She gestured him inside, but he stayed rooted to the spot, taking in the sight of her. If he’d texted any other woman and said he was coming over, they’d be wearing ten pounds of makeup, high heels, and nothing else. That wasn’t arrogance on his part, just stone-cold truth. Women wanted his money, his fame, or his body. No in-betweens or exceptions.

And then there was Faith. A haphazard ponytail left wisps of brown hair around her face. The loose cotton shorts and white tee she wore shouldn’t be sexy. The lamplight behind her hid most of her freckles, but he still wanted to kiss each one, strip her to see if she had more. And where.

“Hi,” he forced out.

“Hello. Are you going to come inside or should we talk through the doorway?”

The last thing he wanted to do was talk. He crossed the threshold and fit his lips over hers, reaching out and tugging her flush against his chest. And damn, the spark wasn’t a fluke. The same heat and need flared to life. Consumed.

Tightening his hold on her, he lifted her enough to back her away from the entry and kicked the door shut, all the while keeping his mouth fused to hers. He spun her around and pressed her back against the door, planting his palms on either side of her head. If he kept his hands off her, he could stop this before the house went up in flames. Probably.

Faith didn’t get the memo. Her fingers drove into his hair and tugged. Her tongue warred with his for dominance and he was damn tempted to let her win. Just for the hell of it. To let himself be conquered for once.

When one of her legs snaked around his hips, drawing his jean-clad erection snug against the apex of her thighs, he groaned and rested his forehead against hers. Tried to breathe. “You’re a sleeper,” he mumbled, head still somewhere in the vicinity of that kiss.

“Sleeper?” she breathed.

God, that voice of hers got to him in ways he couldn’t possibly explain. “Yeah. A sleeper. You seem all reserved and calm on the surface, lying in wait until the moment of initiation, and then you strike.”

Her amber eyes lifted to his, her dilated pupils telling him she was just as affected. “That was a compliment, right?”

He laughed and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. Smelled so good. “Yes, that was a compliment.”