Fallen Angels 04 - Rapture (50 page)

In the silence that followed, she thought about something she’d said to her father years and years ago. She’d been a typical teenager at the time, disagreeing with everything and everybody: She’d announced, as they’d driven home from church, that she didn’t believe in God, or Heaven, or Hell—so why did she have to have every single Sunday morning ruined.

Her father had looked into the rearview mirror and replied, “Just because you don’t believe doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

Staring into the face of the man she loved, she didn’t believe the transformation—and yet she could run her fingertips down his now-unmarred skin.

And as she thought more, she found that there was little understanding any of this: Not the way things had started outside that graveyard … not the two men who surrounded Matthias … not what had happened to her under that water … and not this, either.

But as her father had said, that didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

“I want to kiss you.” Matthias focused on her mouth. “That’s all I know.”

She so got that. In this swirling confusion and post-shock emotion, the only thing that
made sense to her—the only thing that seemed tangible—was that she wanted to be with him in whatever way she could.

Mels lowered her lips to within half an inch of his, and whispered, “I think the bed’s empty now.”

Matthias closed the distance, brushing at her mouth. Then he rose to his feet and scooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other beneath her arms.

“Oh, wait, I’m too—”

She didn’t get to the
heavy
. He lifted her from out of the chair and held her up strongly from the floor, carrying her over to the bed without a limp.

“What happened in that bathroom?” she said again.

Instead of an answer, he laid her out on the duvet and then straddled her legs, looming large above her. “I don’t know—and that’s the truth. I went in and … Adrian … Look, let’s not talk right now. Let’s … do other things—putting words to it is not going to make it any more understandable.”

She had the sense that he was right. Nothing made any sense, except for the need to be with him—and that was especially true as he took a fingertip and ran it down the side of her throat to the juncture of what she was wearing.

“Where did you get this dress?”

“It’s a raincoat. Collapsible—I always keep it in my bag.”

“So no zipper?”

“No.” He smiled a little, but then grew serious—like he was remembering why she’d needed a change of clothes. “Don’t think about the boathouse,” she told him. “Not right now.”

After all, two could play at the shut-it game.

“How can I not,” he said darkly. And yet he leaned down and kissed her, hovering above her body, his hands going to the tie that kept the two halves of the coat together—

“You’re naked under this?” he breathed.

“As a jaybird.”

He eased back a little. “I can’t decide whether that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard …”

“Or?”

“Or if I want to kill any other man who saw you in this.”

“I’m not showing anything.”

“Not the point.”

The possessiveness in that deep voice had her smiling—especially as he parted the coat and ran his big hands down her body. His mouth followed next, his lips soft, his teeth sharp as they nipped gently, lingering on each one of her breasts until her nipples were tight and peaked.

She stopped him before he got too far. “I’d love a shower—want to join me?”

From under heavy lids, his eyes glowed. “I think we’re doing just fine.”

“Come with me.”

As she sat up, he rolled to the side. “How about I watch?”

“If that’s what you want.”

The growl that came at her was a big, fat
yes, ma’am
if she’d ever heard one—and far be it from her not to start the show early: As she got off the bed naked, she deliberately stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, her breasts heavy and taut.

Especially as she cupped them both, and thumbed the tips.

“God … damn,” he groaned.

Mels took her own sweet time walking around the end of the bed, letting him look at her body as her hands went to her hips and then her butt. There was such freedom in the privacy, and the way the light from the desk hit her from the side, and how his hot stare followed her every move.

“You coming with me?” she asked.

“Yeah …” He went to sit up, but then frowned, looking down at himself in confusion. “Ah … yeah.”

“You can keep your clothes on,” she said gently, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. “And there’s plenty of room in the bath.”

He shook his head like he was clearing it. “Yeah.” He laughed awkwardly. “By the way, that appears to be the extent of my vocabulary at the moment.”

Flashing him her backside again, she heard the rustling of him getting off the bed, and then his warm palms were on her waist and he pulled her against him. Kissing her shoulder, his hands moved around and palmed her breasts, lifting them, caressing them.

“Mels … God, you feel good.” He nuzzled her nape and went behind her ear. “You’re …”

“Wouldn’t you like to see how talented I can be with a bar of soap?”

“Oh,
fuck
.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

Inside the loo, she leaned in and started the shower while Matthias put the toilet seat down and lowered himself onto it, rubbing his jaw like he was hungry and looking forward to a meal.

“You’ll be leaving that open, of course,” he said.

“The curtain?”

“Yeah.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m going to rip it down off that rod.”

She pushed the thing out of the way. “Well, we can’t have you wrecking the place.”

Mels stepped under the warm spray and went into another arch, putting the front of her body into the water. Then she turned and soaked her hair, letting her head fall back on her spine, the rush from above feeling like hands all over her.

His hands.

The soap was one that the hotel provided, a little bar that had been worn down by his use—and as she wet it, she smelled ginger, the humid air carrying the fragrance upward into her nose.

So slippery.

Across her neck and to her breasts, then farther, to her belly and over her hips … she went everywhere with the soap, the suds covering her skin before sliding downward in delicious trails—some of which went between her thighs.

Matthias was frozen where he sat, his eyes all over her, as if there were too much for him to look at—

For a moment, she lost her rhythm, that mystery of the healing returning to her … but then he spoke up.

“Do you need some help with your back?”

The rasping sound of his voice refocused her. “Patience.”

“Don’t have any.”

“Learn some.” As he cursed, vile and low, she smiled at him and leaned down to her legs, letting her breasts hang slick and full. “It’s good for the soul.”

“So are you. And for godsakes—don’t stop, ever.”

Happy to comply, she was slow and careful with her ankle and her calf, her nipples swaying back and forth, brushing the top of her thigh as she worked—

“Let me take over from here.” He leaned forward and snagged the soap. “Oh, sweet Jesus … I have to touch you.”

She was not going to deny him. Anything.

He wet his hands in the waterfall that had formed off the side of her hip; then he was on her flesh, the silky suds magnifying the contact as he swept up the back of her leg and lingered so close to her core … before attending to her inner thigh, stroking, plying, getting her hot in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the shower or the air in the room.

Mels closed her eyes.

She was at once in her flesh and flying free of it, grounded on the tile and soaring in the air, stretched between the extremes of wanting this delicious torture to last forever … and being desperate to get to the release that was even now threatening to bring her to her knees.

“Give me your other leg.”

Opening her lids, Mels put her hand on his shoulder to balance herself and lifted her opposite foot.

All she could think about was his head between her thighs.

“You’re getting wet,” she said roughly.

His burning eyes lifted to hers. “I hope that makes two of us.” As she nodded, he laughed in the back of his throat. “Say it for me.”

“Say what.”

“How wet you are, right here …” His hand swept to her core, his long fingers slipping into the heat, rubbing just enough to have her crying out—before easing free. “Say it.”

He picked that moment to open his mouth and slide what had touched her in between his lips, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked, a sound of approval resonating in his chest.

“
Say it
,” he commanded.

Mels could only moan something relatively close to, “I’m so wet. …”

His smile was all bad boy with fantastically dirty intentions. “You going to wash your hair for me?”

He stared at her breasts as he spoke, like he was picturing them moving back and forth as she worked her arms over her head.

Roger. That. And then hopefully they could go back to other things …

It was the work of a moment to grab the little bottle. The cap was already off, and as she poured the shampoo into her palm, the stuff was honey-thick and golden yellow in color.

Matthias’s eyes stuck to her breasts as she reached up to the crown of her head. Sure enough, the back-and-forth motion was carried to what he was so captivated by, and she knew she was getting to him by the way he stroked her leg from ankle to thigh, going a little higher with every pass.

Until he was where she wanted him to be.

As his slick fingers touched her sex again, she jerked in pleasure—and that was good timing for the rinse part. With the water carrying the shampoo out of her hair, he teased and probed, the friction taking her to the brink.

“I want to see you come,” he ordered.

No problem. The sound of his voice coupled with the way he penetrated her was more than enough to pitch her headlong into a massive orgasm, her palm slapping against the wet tile as the tension snapped in her core and the sensation rippled throughout her body.

Something came out of her mouth … his name, yes, that was it—and she said it twice.

The water was shut off as she was recovering, and a towel wrapped around her.

“You clean enough for your standards?” he said as he lifted her out.

She was pretty sure her reply was “yes”—it was certainly the word in her mind. God only knew what she spoke—

With a surge of demand, Matthias pressed his mouth to hers and licked his way inside as he rubbed her with the soft terry cloth. And then he was carrying her back to the bed.

As he laid her out, she thought he was going to kiss her again, and closed her eyes while lifting her chin.

He did kiss her. Just not on the mouth.

He went right to the center of her, parting her thighs wide, latching onto her sex, sucking her in. The sensation of wet on wet
sent her over the edge again, her body racked with an orgasm that was only part release.

The other half was just another crap load of want.

Down at the boathouse on the river’s edge, Devina could feel the heat rolling off the angel who was facing off in front of her—and goodness, gracious sakes a-fuckin’-live, that burn wasn’t just anger.

He wanted her.

And even better than that, he hated himself for it: He utterly despised the arousal that was making a circus tent out of the front of those God-awful sweatpants he was wearing.

The combination was better than absinthe and oysters, an aphrodisiac that nearly made a demon forget that he’d double-crossed her in the last round.

Not quite, though. She could still hear him saying those words.

I lied
.

And what do you know, on her side as well, fury slammed head-first into love, the two extremes magnifying each other.