Edge of Passion by Tina Folsom

crept through the crevices along the door frame. She knew it was only a matter of time until the door gave way, allowing the fire into her bedroom. It made the decision for her: she would go with him for now, but as soon as she had escaped this inferno, she’d scream for help and escape.
    She nodded and saw him exhale with relief.
    “We have to get out the window.”
    She stared at him. “I can’t jump down there. It’s too high.” Her ankle was sprained. There was no way she could land on it. Most likely she’d sprain or break the other leg too, trying to absorb the impact of the fall with it. Landing awkwardly could result in all kinds of injuries.
    She tried to pull from his arms, but he didn’t let her go.
    “You won’t jump. I will.”
    Her forehead creased. “But how will I …?” Would he leave her here after all, to perish in the flames?
    Aiden released her and pushed the curtains to the sides, yet he didn’t open the window.
    “We have to get out before the fire consumes the door,” he explained.
    “Oh, God,” she whispered, horror making her blood freeze in her veins.
    When she felt Aiden’s arms around her, she almost felt safe: exchanging one evil for another. He pressed her to his front, his body warm and strangely comforting.
    “Wait! My bag.” She pulled from his arms and grabbed both her handbag and her necklace from the nightstand. Her necklace was one thing she couldn’t let perish in the fire. No sooner had she shoved the pendant into the pocket of her jeans and slung her bag diagonally across her body, did Aiden draw her back to him.
    “Wrap your arms and legs around me,” he ordered.
    Fear made her comply without protest. She clung to him like Velcro, his breath hot at her ear.
    “Don’t lose your hold on me. I’ll jump, and I promise you, you’ll be safe.”
    Something in his voice settled her pounding heart and slowed her breathing. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought it was tenderness she’d heard. She must be out of her mind if she assumed that. “Yes.”
    Leila buried her face in his neck when she felt him kick the window out with one foot.
    Simultaneously, the flames broke through the door, the force of the blast catapulting them outside. She prepared for the inevitable hard impact on the sidewalk, but it never happened. Either she was dead or Aiden had landed on his feet.
    “You can open your eyes now.”
    Hesitantly, she peeled her face from his neck and blinked. As if nothing had happened, they were suddenly standing on the pavement in front of her building, not a scratch on them. She had to be still drugged, because a landing like this was impossible, particularly after practically being tossed out the window by the flashover.
    “How—?”
    But she didn’t get to ask her question, because his lips prevented her from speaking. As if he’d done this a hundred times before, his mouth slid over hers. His kiss was one of pure possession, exploration, and desire.
    To her surprise, she responded to him without thought. She blamed the fact that she’d just escaped a burning apartment. Or the drugs he’d somehow managed to spike her drink with at the Irish bar. Perhaps she was in shock. There was no other sane reason why she would kiss back a man who’d clearly broken into her apartment, set it on fire, and was about to kidnap her.
    Right, no sane reason, other than the fact that he tasted so male and so virile. His hands on her back pressed her against his rock hard chest where she felt his heart beating as fast as hers, while his tongue forged into her mouth, ravishing her as if he hadn’t kissed a woman in years and was starving for a taste. Maybe as starving as herself, for she couldn’t stop stroking her own tongue against his, dueling with him, exploring him like he explored her. It was madness, and wrong on so many levels.
    But her body didn’t listen to her brain, which tried to tell her to push him away. On the contrary, just as she’d