Becca had to remind herself to breathe. Michael's hand was on her lower back, guiding her down the hall. The penthouse of the Stratosphere was a slice of luxury, and she struggled to take in all the little details, she wanted to remember this moment in perfect clarity. He pushed open the door at the end of the hall and led her inside. The lights were brighter in the bathroom, she squinted as her eyes adjusted.

The Stratosphere knew how to bring the glamour. Marble and designer fixtures were everywhere. She stared longingly at the large claw tub until she caught her reflection in the mirror and let out a distressed whine. She looked far worse than she had expected, dirty from head to toe, and it looked like she picked up half the construction site in her hair.

"I'm a disaster," she muttered.

"Yes," he replied. "Perhaps, the shower is the better choice."

She nodded, turned toward the glass doors, and froze. The shower took up a large portion of the bathroom, and she couldn't understand why the Stratosphere would bother having such a large shower. It seemed like quite the waste. She concluded that several people could fit comfortably. She also remembered that there had been repairs done to the structure of the Stratosphere immediately after Vega had been claimed for humanity. Not just repairs, renovations. Wings. This shower could accommodate his wingspan. She swallowed hard.

The large metal showerhead was prominent in the middle. If she stood under it and stretched her hands in any direction she wouldn't be able to reach the wall. There were jets on the wall as well, both sides. For wings, she realized once again. She touched the glass wall for balance, although, she could no longer say if her knees shook from the loss of blood, or the excitement, or some combination.

He stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder steadied her, even as her pulse skipped. Fingers trailed along her neck and stopped at the top of the zipper. "Would you like assistance?"

"Yes," she whispered.

The sound of the zipper being slowly pulled seemed all too loud, and somehow thrummed out the heartbeat in her ears. His hand slid under the strap that still remained on her dress, and he paused. "I will not do anything you do not want, do you understand?"

"Yes." When his hand remained still, she realized he was still asking permission, and would not move further until he had it. "Please help me undress, Michael." She hardly recognized her own voice, sultry and breathless.

His hand slid over her shoulder, down her arm, the dress pooling at her hips for a moment. His hands on her waist had her breath catching, those hands slid over her hips, pushing the fabric away. The strapless black bra and matching practical panties left her wishing she had taken Claire up on spending a 'girls' day in the shopping district. Not that they seemed to matter, after slow minute they ended up joining her dress on the floor.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, his eyes didn't wander, but maintained eye contact. He'd been more than accommodating, yet he remained unintentionally intimidating. She wanted him to make a move, but knew he wouldn't. Maybe because the Archangel knew how unapproachable he was. She'd survived a horrific day, it could have very easily been her last. The thought of the eight-ball standing over put life into perspective. Despite Vega becoming more secure, the time they lived in was still dangerous, deadly even. Best make the most of every second.

Is it wise to tempt an Archangel? The thought left her body tingling. No, not wise at all. Yet, she turned to fully face him, her body on full display. His eyes remained locked on hers. "Will you join me? As you said, I'll never get all this off alone."

"Yes," he replied. When he didn't move to take off his clothes, she realized fully that he meant what he said. He wouldn't do anything unless she wanted it. He was going above and beyond to ensure her comfort. He would follow her fully clothed just to help.

Well, that just won't do. She took a half-step, removing the space between them. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, her heart hammering in her chest. "You should be undressed." She pulled the shirt up and he lifted his arms, allowing her to remove the shirt. She let it fall, and ran her hands over his well-defined chest.

He took a step back, and she could practically see his fight for control. You've read the signs wrong, she thought, this is the Archangel Michael, the epitome of control. He took to studying her body, and she remained still and quiet. He stepped back up to her, took her hands and returned them to his chest. Light caresses of his flesh as she marvelled at him. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist. She froze, wondered what she'd done to irritate him. Instead, he pulled her hand up, kissed the inside of her wrist while his eyes were on hers.

A gasp of surprise and pleasure left her lips. "Yes," she whispered, stating her approval.

He stripped the rest of his clothing quickly, but before she could get a good look, he guided her into the shower. She'd nearly forgotten her state, but any embarrassment was washed away as the water hit her. The heat drove into her body, warming skin, muscle, and bone. She arched her back forward, and let her chin rest on her chest. Water beat down on her back, but it was Michael's hands massaging her shoulders that had a low moan escaping her lips.

"This is lovely," she said, tipping her head back, the water cascading through her hair. It did take a while, but eventually they worked all the stones, a shard of glass, and dirt from her hair. His hands ran over her body as he washed her down with one of the bars of soap from the assortment he kept.

While she stood under the water, rinsing the suds off, she thought of the small kiss to the inside of her wrist. Turning to him, she did a rather obvious assessment of his body. Muscular but lean, he looked the part of a seasoned warrior. He managed to bring her the feelings of safety and danger in equal measure.

Wanting to make a move, and yet afraid to be denied, she played her current state of weakness to her advantage. She grabbed his shoulder, and automatically his arms went around her. Bodies pressed together, the water continued to beat down on their skin. His eyes followed a bead of water over her shoulder, the curve of her collar bone, and over the swell of her breast. Dark blue eyes returned to her, and his lips pressed lightly to hers, a controlled contact that left her aching for more. Too soon his lips abandoned hers. A quiet groan left her lips.

His lips returned, this time to just below her ear, trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck as frenzied and needy as she felt. "I shouldn't want you like this, tell me to stop, Becca." His hands framed her face, lips barely an inch from hers, and she couldn't catch her breath. "Order me to stop."

Before, she'd thought there was no order from him he wouldn't follow, but this one she dismissed immediately. She closed the distance between them, her lips demanding, strained her tired legs up onto her tiptoes to make up for their height difference. As long as she lived, she wouldn't forget the way his arms tightened as their lips met, pulling her flush against his hard body.

Growing up with the life she'd had didn't leave room for relationships. She studied. She survived. That was the extent of her living. Vega gave her a promise for more. Michael…

For once in her life her mind took the backseat while her heart and body did the work. She took, and demanded, and gave. The scorching kiss robbed her of breath, and when he caught her bottom lip between his teeth, her knees shook. And he took notice. Although he didn't move, he was distancing himself. She could see it in his eyes. "Michael?"

"Come on." He turned off the water and led her out of the shower. With one of the plush white towels, he took on the task of drying her first. Quiet, methodical, a rather menial task that still left her burning with desire. With the towel wrapped around her body, and tucked between her breasts he paused. Staring openly at her, he twirled a strand of her long hair around his finger, a small smile curving his lips. He cleared his throat and grabbed another towel for himself. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little."

"You're exhausted."

She couldn't deny it. "You must be too. I shouldn't have barged in at such an hour." She glanced at her dress, and grimaced. Before she could take a step toward it, Michael had her turned back toward the door. "My dress-"

"Is ruined."

"But I-"

"Will have something else to wear." His tone left no room for argument. Neither did the guiding hand on her lower back.

In the bedroom, a gentle breeze came through the open window. She hugged the towel tighter, feeling more exposed in the room than she had completely naked in the shower with Michael. She turned to him, and realized he was watching her. Belatedly, she noticed that no longer did his towel hang around his hips, but he wore loose track pants. Her breathing quickened, but she sent a worried look at the window. He threw a shirt on the bed, and crossed the room.

The windows shut with a soft 'click,' and the heavy drapes were pulled. He looked back at her. "The shirt is for you."

"Oh." She felt dumb, and awkward, and it was entirely awful. She wanted the sexy, confident Becca from the shower back. She lifted the black v-neck styled t-shirt he always seemed to be wearing. "Um… I need pants."

"Why? You aren't going home tonight."

"I'm… I'm not?"

He smiled, and sauntered over to her. "No. You're not. You're exhausted. Sleep here."

"But in the morning-"

"There will be something for you to wear. I will escort you home. No one will know."

And she knew, knew then that it had to be a secret. Whatever they were, or would become, or wouldn't become, it couldn't be advertised. It wouldn't be smart. Wouldn't be safe.

"Okay."

She made the split second decision to drop the towel. His eyes darkened, and she heard the slightest growl at the back of his throat. He pulled the shirt from her hands, and helped her put it on, his fingertips brushing over her skin any chance he had. He stared at her, standing in his shirt and nothing else. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes returned to hers. He stepped toward her, forcing her to take a step, then another back. Her calves hit the bed. "Sleep, Becca."

She sat down, then laid back. "Will you share the bed?"

He looked conflicted above her. "If you wish."

"I do."

He settled down beside her, and her heart raced. Can I touch him? Should I? Is snuggling with an archangel acceptable? As if he could read her mind, he pulled her close and she rested her head on his shoulder. The then thought hit her; what if he can read minds?

She cleared her throat. "Um… you can't read minds, right?"

He turned to stare at her, puzzled. "No."

"Right." She felt her cheeks burn with mild embarrassment. "Good to know."

He kissed her temple. "Sleep, Becca."

She sighed. As she drifted off, she thought; I could get used to this.

::

Thanks for reading! Reviews appreciated :)