Archangel of Mercy (20 page)

He snorted and began to pull off her shirt. She slapped his hand, gripped his wrists and pinned him to the arms of the chair.

“Don’t touch. Or do I have to hurt you?”

Gabe choked on another laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

She trailed her hands up his arms. He didn’t move a muscle. Or break eye contact.

“Be careful.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It sounded scandalously sexy, sultry even. “What you wish for.” Heart pounding, making it hard to draw breath, she concentrated on unbuttoning his shirt. “Because you never know your luck. You might just get it.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

G
ABE
stifled the primal urge to rip off their clothes, drag Aurora into his arms and slake the molten lust that surged through his blood. He was as desperate for her body as if he’d been celibate for years. As if this was their first time. As if he hadn’t already sampled what she had to offer; hadn’t already taken her more frequently than any other woman in centuries.

Sex was an entertaining way to pass the time. Enjoyable, satisfying. And ultimately forgettable.

He remembered every frenzied moment of every single time he’d been with Aurora. It seemed that far from diminishing his need, every time he had her only left him more ravenous for more.

Instead of obeying his natural instincts to assert control, to take what she offered on his terms, he gripped the arms of the chair, his biceps straining with the effort.

“What do you have in mind?” He watched the way she slid each button free with maddening deliberation, an enchanting frown of concentration etched on her brow. He wasn’t sure whether she was doing it deliberately or not, but either way it was stoking his lust like nothing he could recall.

“Wait and see.” She glanced up at him then and the blush on her cheeks, giving her an intriguing aura of innocent seductress, stretched his frayed self-control to its limits. “Not used to the woman taking over, are you?”

He heard the hint of triumph in her voice and it was obvious that thought gave her a great deal of satisfaction. That she wanted to be the first who had ever had him pliant beneath her searching fingers.

A feral grin split his lips and she smirked, clearly pleased by his reaction. Even if it wasn’t the truth. Even if he’d lost count millennia ago of how many women had stripped him and worshipped him, while he lay there basking in their adoration.

Because with every other woman, except Eleni, who had taken the initiative, he’d been content to let them feed their curiosity. He’d not had to rein in his desire as he was doing for Aurora. Hadn’t needed to remain agonizingly still while she grappled with a simple thing like removing his shirt.

And unlike any of them, Aurora was far from incoherent with awe or speechless with the honor of being in his company. She was with him because . . .

Despite himself a pained grunt escaped as she tugged his shirt from his pants. But still his thought hovered.

Aurora was with him because he was the
man she wanted
.

Not an immortal. Not an archangel. Not because of his reputation as a ruthless mercenary. But just because of
him
.

She grasped the ends of his shirt in her fists and looked as if she wasn’t too sure what she was supposed to do next. Gods, he hoped she opened his pants. His cock was fucking killing him.

“Take off your shirt.” Her voice was uneven and she still clung onto the edges of his shirt as if it was her lifeline.

It would be so much easier to rip off his shirt, open his pants and pull her onto him. The image scalded his vision, blurred reality. He wanted her now. But she needed this more.

“No.” He barely recognized his voice. He sounded like a desperate addict craving his next fix.

Aurora.

He grimaced, pushed through the fog enslaving his sanity and searched for the words she needed. “You want me naked, you strip me.”

Her pupils, already huge, expanded further and her blatant arousal fueled his own. She dropped the ends of his shirt and slid her hands up his abdomen, her touch light but sure. He instantly regretted his benevolence.

“Is your body naturally perfect or do you work out?” The tip of her tongue slid across the seam of her lips and he stared, mesmerized. Had she just done that on purpose?

“Both.” If he gripped the damn chair any harder it was going to splinter. He tried, without much success, to relax his rigid muscles. “How about you?”

Her fingers halted a whisper from his nipples. “Me?” She sounded as though she thought he might be mocking her. “My body’s hardly perfect, even if I do go to the gym.”

He released a pained breath. Why had he thought it a good idea to let Aurora take over? She was talking way too much. She always talked way too much.

Despite her poor timing he realized he’d have her no other way.

“It’s perfect”—he ground the words between his teeth in an attempt to keep focused—“to me.”

For a moment she stared at him as if he was her entire world and something deep inside twisted, the pain corkscrewing through his chest. He’d sworn she would look at him with adoration, but he’d never envisaged a look like this. He couldn’t even place it, only knew it had nothing to do with mindless worship of an immortal being.

And then she let out a breathless laugh and stroked her thumbs over his nipples. He damn near came in his pants. How much more of this could he take?

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

What? That he was seconds from a major embarrassment?

“Yeah.” The word was feral. “Right.”

She flattened her hands over his chest, over his erect nipples, molding his body in her palms. Her warm breath feathered his mouth, her breasts rose and fell with tantalizing promise but still she remained fully clothed when he wanted her naked and screaming his name while he—

“I’d like to watch you work out.” She slid her hands over his shoulders, beneath the fabric of his shirt, and despite his good intentions a groan of pure frustration razed his throat. She appeared to enjoy his discomfort if her evil smile was anything to go by. “I can just see you pumping iron.”

He could see him pumping something else. And damn soon, too.

She eased his shirt off his shoulders, then concentrated on attempting to tug it from his body.

“Need some help?” Gods, it hurt to think, never mind speak. When was the last time he’d been so insanely aroused?

“Yes.” He heard the thread of frustration in her voice. Clearly she’d wanted to strip him without any assistance. “Just come forward a bit so I can—that’s it.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, his face cushioned in the gentle swell of her breasts. He could hear the frantic rush of her blood, feel the erratic hammer of her pulses, but still she insisted on focusing her attention on his damn shirt.

Or not. As she pulled the material down his back her hands spent more time clinging to his flesh and digging into his muscles than was strictly necessary. Erotic torture. He turned his head and flicked his tongue over the peak of her breast, and a seductive quiver rippled through her body.

“Told you not to touch.” She plunged her fingers into his hair but didn’t attempt to drag his head back. If anything, she pressed him closer. “Not good at taking orders, are you?”

“No.” He fastened his teeth around her nipple. Even through her top and bra he could feel the tantalizing nub harden under his tongue.

“Stop.” It was a choked gasp and he was tempted to ignore it. Especially when her fingers dug into his scalp as if the last thing she wanted was for him to
stop
.

Air hissed between his teeth as he drew back from her luscious breasts. Her nails gouged his head in response, as though she hadn’t believed he would do as she asked.

She dragged her fingers through his hair and he stifled another groan. Every fucking thing she did aroused him, and if she did much more he’d damn well combust.

“Lift your arm.” Her order was hardly coherent and he smiled grimly. At least her performance was causing her a degree of the discomfort he was experiencing. He unhooked his fingers from the chair and suffered in acute silence as Aurora then slid both hands over his taut biceps. Except she did it again, as if the texture of his flesh fascinated her. And then again, sculpting his musculature with the tips of her fingers.

“What,” he ground out, “are you doing?” Not that he wasn’t enjoying it in a vaguely masochistic way. But he’d enjoy it a whole lot more if she would release his agonizingly trapped cock from his pants.

“Exploring your body.” The words were husky, provocative and speared straight through his shaft. “If it wasn’t too close to the truth I’d say you were built like a god.”

He laughed. Didn’t mean to but couldn’t help himself. “Don’t insult me at a time like this, sweetheart. I’m built like an archangel, not a god.”

This time she was the one who laughed, a sexy, sultry laugh that sank into his blood and filled his mind. With an endearingly inelegant tug she finally managed to pull off his shirt and dropped it onto the terrace with a sigh of clear relief.

He sat back and once again gripped the arms of the chair. It was either that or grab Aurora, but despite his need he wanted to know what else she had in mind. It was odd. All she had done was removed his shirt and yet he couldn’t remember when anything, no matter how sexually breathtaking, had so ensnared his libido.

She stood before him, still entrapped by his thighs, and her reverential gaze enchanted him. Women without number had looked this way at him and yet, conversely, not one of them had.

Because not one of them had ever affected him the way Aurora was affecting him now. He waited until she finally lifted her gaze to his, and offered her his most decadent smile.

“Do you think . . .” She trailed off, and he wanted to tell her the time for thinking was past. That he didn’t care what she intended, that she should just
do
it. “Do you think you’ll have any more unexpected visitors? Should we go inside?”

He heard an unmistakable crack as he finally splintered one of the timber arms.

“No. To both.” He sounded rabid. If anyone did turn up he’d fucking slaughter them. “Are you done now?”

Instead of quaking at his tone, as any other mortal with a shred of sense would have, she just smirked, like he’d said something that greatly amused her. Then she began to inch her T-shirt up from her waist, daring him to break eye contact.

He didn’t.

“Do I look as if I’m done?” The hint of mockery, that she was virtually throwing his own words back in his face from their first sexual encounter, was electrifying. His thumbs were hooked into the top of her shorts and tugging them down her thighs before he even realized he’d moved. Her arousal scented the air, her damp pussy the most enticing sight he’d glimpsed in millennia.

“Gabe.” Her breathless whisper dragged his mesmerized gaze from between her legs. Her lips were parted, her eyes glazed, and her T-shirt was bunched over her breasts, hiding her cleavage but showing the sexy lace of her bra and dark hint of erect nipples. “Sit back.”

He couldn’t sit back. He was in agony. Every move a fiery torture. And every breath was saturated with her evocative, sultry scent.

Slowly he unhooked his fingers from her shorts. “Satisfied?” The word rasped into the heated air. Maybe Aurora had discovered a way to kill an archangel after all.

“Not yet.” Her voice was uneven. “Patience isn’t one of your virtues, is it?”

“Never said it was.” Riveted, he watched her pull her T-shirt over her head, her breasts lifting provocatively in the lacy cups that cradled them. She dropped it on top of his shirt and then slid her hands over her breasts, across her belly to the apex of her thighs.

“Wasn’t going to strip right off yet.” Her hands slid lower, pushing her shorts down her legs. “Was going to make you wait for it.”

She bent from her waist, slowly sliding her shorts from her body, giving him an unobstructed view of her tempting breasts and captivating cleavage.

And for once, words failed him.

She kicked off her shorts, then slid her hands over his rigid thighs, a slow, torturous caress, and his chest constricted as if that might ease the excruciating throb devouring his entire groin.

No chance. Not when Aurora’s fingers drifted over his erection as if she was measuring his length.

Another frustrated groan escaped. “You are making me wait for it. Since when have you been a sadist?”

Her gaze was fixed on the bulge in his pants. “Since I met you.” Finally she tugged at his belt and he hitched in a painful breath in an attempt to give her some leverage. “Lift up.” Her voice was an intoxicating blend of command and awe and he obeyed without a second thought.

Bracing his weight on his hands, he watched Aurora go to work on releasing him from his current state of purgatory. Through the lust thundering inside his brain a thread of amusement ignited. Her brow was creased in concentration as if she was engaged in a task of monumental complexity.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been
amused
during such an encounter. Then she let out a frustrated hiss and yanked.

“Fuck!” Still clutching the chair he reared up, almost knocking Aurora onto her ass. “You damn near castrated me.”

She slapped her hand across her mouth and her eyes widened. His vision was blurred but he could have sworn she was on the verge of giggling.

“Sorry.” The word was muffled. She slid her hand from her mouth and cradled his jaw. “I’ve never manhandled such an impressive weapon before.”

Gods, damn, she
was
laughing. He was so staggered even the volcanic throb of his abused cock faded. It had been forever since a simple fuck had become so mystifyingly complex.

The thought drifted through his mind, instantly dismissed. There was nothing complex about it.
Nothing.

“My impressive weapon.” Hell, it was hard to keep a straight face. Then he wondered why he was even trying. “Despite being immortal is also made of flesh and blood. And it damn well hurts.” Fuck, had he said that aloud? Admitted a weakness?

“I’m really sorry.” This time she sounded genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t
really
hurt you that badly, did I?”

In the great scheme of things he wasn’t hurt at all. But in all of his long existence no woman had ever managed to pinch the sensitive skin of his cock
in a zipper
.

A snort of laughter erupted at the sheer incongruity of the situation. He unhooked his fingers from the chair and it dropped to the ground.

“You did,” he told her as he finished her botched attempt and finally freed himself. Relief punched through his groin and he shoved his pants down his legs before she had the chance to protest. “The question is: What are you going to do about it?”