Her Guardian Angel 4-Her Angel Series (9 page)

Amelia
closed the door behind her and walked into his apartment, casting
her gaze over everything and then him, and he felt the challenge in
her look. She was trying to figure him out and he didn’t
particularly like the tone of her expression.

In a fit
of desire to prove himself a man, he strode into the kitchen,
unscrewed the cap on the wine and set it down on the counter.
Another flaw in his plan produced itself as he searched the dark
wooden cupboards for wine glasses but he overcame it by using two
short tumblers instead. If anything, rosé wine could only look more
manly in such a glass, surely?

He poured
two healthy glasses of wine as Amelia approached the open double
doors and then held one out to her. She took it without questioning
his choice of glass and then raised it towards him.

“Cheers,”
she said in a low sexy voice that had his gaze drifting towards her
lips so he could watch her drink and then added,
“Cheers?”

Marcus
realised he was supposed to respond in kind, so raised his glass
too. “Cheers.”

“Or
bottoms up.” Amelia giggled, turned and walked back into the living
room.

Bottoms
up.

Marcus’s
eyes dropped to her backside. The deep red material of her dress
clung to it, emphasising the shape of her bottom in a way that had
his blood pounding through his temples again. He took a deep breath
and joined her in the living room. Amelia sipped her drink. Marcus
stared at his.

Alcohol
hadn’t passed his lips in five centuries, not since the one and
only time he had dared to drink it and had awoken with a demonic
curse scrawled on his back. Back then, it had been a forbidden
item. Now, any angel could drink it without castigation.

Marcus
had no desire to do such a thing.

He took
another deep breath and blew it out, trying to psych himself up. He
could feel Amelia’s gaze on him and he hoped she didn’t think he
was spacing out again or had noticed his fear of what might
happened when he finally took a sip of the wine. Blood whooshed
through his ears, drowning out all sound as he stared at the
innocent looking pink liquid in the glass. Alcohol released
inhibitions. It would be a good way of lowering his guard so he
could grow closer to Amelia and gain her trust.

Marcus
lifted it to his lips and breathed in, catching the fiery hint of
alcohol in its scent, and then continued. The moment it passed his
lips, a shiver raced down his spine and along his arms, and heat
followed it down his throat.

The
effect was instantaneous. He had spent the whole day thinking over
his mission and had ignored his body’s cries for nourishment,
leaving him ravenous and his stomach empty. The wine rocketed
straight to his head, sending it spinning, and a second sip only
made the situation worse, lessening his control over his
body.

His eyes
widened in alarm when his wings pushed for freedom and he
concentrated hard in an attempt to contain them and stop them from
tearing through his navy shirt.

“I’ll be
just a minute.” He rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door, and
turned to face the white vanity unit and the large rectangular
mirror above it on the wall.

Marcus
set his glass down and fumbled with it, almost knocking his wine
down the sink, and then turned the cold tap on so fast that he had
to dash to his right to avoid the spray of water that bounced off
the porcelain, threatening to douse his crotch. With a grimace, he
turned the tap down to a steady flow and splashed the water on his
face. His wings pushed again and he ached with the desire to strip
off his shirt and unleash them for a moment, to surrender to his
desire to beat them and shed his mortal appearance.

He
couldn’t.

Not only
could Amelia end up seeing them, ruining any chance of gaining her
trust, but he might not want to put them away again. He couldn’t
spend the whole evening in the bathroom.

His
stomach growled and he pressed his damp hand against it.

If
tonight was going to be anything near to a success, he needed to
eat and soon, but there was nothing in his apartment. He had
promised Amelia dinner. Even if she was kind enough to offer her
own groceries, he wouldn’t know how to cook her anything. He had
never used a stove for anything other than warming basic
foodstuffs, such as soup and other items that came in neat little
cans with clear instructions on the labels.

This
whole plan was ridiculously flawed.

His head
turned again and he reached for his wine, taking a greedy gulp of
it in the hope that it would dull his senses enough that his wings
would relent and he would forget his desire to fly off
somewhere.

With
Amelia.

That was
a thought.

He looked
into the mirror at the reflection of the white door behind him.
Water dripped from the tip of his nose and rolled off his jaw. His
heavy breathing filled the silence.

How would
a human react to the sight of his wings and the knowledge that
angels existed? If she knew what he was, he wouldn’t be deceiving
her and there was a chance that he could convince her that his
reason for being here was to protect her. Would that gain her
trust?

He
laughed at himself.

Any sane
mortal would run a mile if they saw an angel.

She would
never trust him.

“Are you
feeling alright?” The sound of her voice, soft through the door,
roused a different sort of hunger in him. He stared at the door,
picturing her on the other side, how concerned she would look and
how that caring edge to her expression would only add to her
beauty.

If
forced, could he seduce her?

Could it
be called deception if he wanted her too?

It wasn’t
going to happen.

Marcus
dried his face on a hand towel, opened the door and smiled at her.
“Never better.”

She gave
him a hesitant and unconvinced smile in return, and looked past him
at the bathroom, her eyebrows raised high. What was she looking
for? It dawned on him that she thought the wine had made him sick.
He could laugh at that. The one time he had turned to drink, it had
taken close to a barrel of mead to render him unconscious, and even
then he hadn’t thrown up.

He picked
up his glass of wine, sipped it again to prove that he could handle
it, and then smiled at her. Crimson spread across her cheeks, a
delightful rosy tint that his smile had caused, and she held her
own glass up, revealing that it was already empty.

Marcus
took it from her and went into the kitchen to top it up. He took
another swig from his own glass to give himself a little Dutch
courage and then filled it too. When he walked back into the living
room, Amelia was perched on the arm of his pale couch, her slender
legs crossed at the knee, smiling at him. A different urge struck
him, one that would definitely give her the impression that he was
out to seduce her should she notice the effect it had on
him.

He handed
her the glass and stood in a way that wouldn’t reveal the growing
bulge in his jeans, waiting for it to pass.

Amelia
toyed with the glass, delicately running her right index finger
around the rim, mesmerising him and filling his head with images of
her stroking him in such a fashion. She looked up at him. “So what
are we eating?”

Marcus
grinned. “About that… you see… I don’t actually have any food that
is edible and even if I did, I am not a good cook.”

The
expression that settled on her face looked decidedly like
relief.

“Something I said?”

A smile
teased her lips. “I half expected you to be this incredible cook
and to show me up. I’m atrocious.”

Marcus
felt her relief sweep through him too and remembered how often she
ate take away food. His gaze dropped to the bare slip of a dress
she wore. Take out didn’t look bad on her. She had to work out more
often than he knew. He had watched her jogging around Hyde Park
before and had even jogged there once or twice himself before
giving up the pretence and flying above her instead, invisible to
mortal eyes.

“How does
Chinese food suit you?” She took another sip of her wine before
picking up the black cordless phone from the coffee table. “I know
a great place that delivers.”

Marcus
nodded in approval and then listened as she recited what sounded
like the entire menu. He didn’t care what he ate as long as it got
here fast and gave him some defence against the wine so he let her
order some of her favourite dishes for them to share.

He paid
for the food when it arrived twenty minutes later and Amelia helped
him arrange the dishes on the long wooden coffee table between the
sofa and the entertainment centre in the corner of the room. While
he went to top up their drinks and get some plates and cutlery, she
found a movie in the small collection of DVDs he had acquired in
his short time on Earth, and put it into the player.

It felt
far too much like a date as he sat beside her on the couch. He
wasn’t sure what a date felt like, but in all the movies he had
watched on Earth and couples he had observed during his time in
Heaven, this sort of thing was frequently classified as one.
Dinner. Movie. Wine. Man and a woman. Date.

Marcus
finished off the remains of his food and leaned back into the
corner of the couch, bringing his wine with him. He crossed his
legs and stretched his right arm out along the back of the sofa,
settling his hand close to Amelia, and rested the bottom of his
glass on his knee. He paid little attention to the movie playing on
the large flat screen television. Amelia held it too firmly,
keeping his eyes locked on her face as she laughed, oblivious to
his watching her. She was beautiful, and it wasn’t the wine
talking.

A pure
soul, full of kindness and warmth. Her internal beauty shone
through, enhancing her external looks and leading him to wonder how
such a pretty woman could fall for such disgusting men. She
couldn’t see the damage to their souls, so it was understandable
that she would occasionally fall for males who were beneath her,
but to always find the bad seed amongst the many decent men in the
world? He had at least expected her to get rid of them the moment
she realised they were no good for her, but she persevered,
attempting to change their ways, as though she hoped that she could
make them into a good man if she tried hard enough.

Impossible.

Men were
resistant to change.

As were
angels.

Amelia
looked at him over her shoulder, her laughter dying away when she
caught his gaze and her expression turning serious.

“Do I
have something on my face?” she said with a hint of a smile and a
blush.

Marcus
wanted to say that she did and use the excuse to reach across and
sweep the backs of his fingers across her cheek. He wanted to see
if his touch could affect her with the same intensity that hers
affected him. He shook his head instead, expecting her to go back
to watching the movie. She didn’t.

She
turned and leaned over him, kneeling on the couch seat, and pressed
her hand against his chest.

Marcus
stared at her mouth, everything good in him screaming to break away
and stop her. He didn’t. He stayed stock still and let it
happen.

His first
kiss in this lifetime was a tentative sweep of soft lips over his
followed by the press of her body into his. The feel of her against
him sent a flood of feelings surging through him, setting his blood
aflame with desire and the need to clutch her to him and possess
her. It overwhelmed him and his restraint, crushing the good part
that was still struggling to resist, and while he stopped himself
from sliding his arm around her back and pulling the full length of
her body flush against his, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing
her.

She
moaned softly when he responded, grazing his lips against hers in a
gentle caress that fanned the flames within him until he burned for
her and for more. Her tongue brushed along the seam of his mouth
and he brought his to meet it, tangling softly and luring it into
his mouth where they danced. He couldn’t remember kissing in his
past lifetime but he certainly would have if it had felt like this.
Warmth suffused him right down to his bones and every breathy
little moan he elicited from Amelia turned the heat up another
notch, until he was close to grabbing the nape of her neck and
holding her mouth against his.

He
breathed hard when she broke away to kneel on the sofa in front of
him, her grey eyes wide and hand coming up to cover her mouth. She
touched her lips, drawing his hungry gaze there, and he was
ravenous all over again, starving for the sweet taste of her on his
tongue.

“Shit…
I’m sorry,” she said, instantly deflating his desire, and scrambled
from the couch.

She was
leaving?

Not
good.

Marcus
was off the sofa and had his hand locked around her wrist before
she could reach the door.

“Wait,”
he said and wasn’t sure what to do when she looked back at him so
he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again.