Two Sides to Every Story (Love Spectrum Romance) (5 page)

Angela felt the heat of Rafe’s lips before they even claimed hers. She was shivering as his breath caressed her face. She wanted to move away from him, from what he represented, but she couldn’t. He was the enemy, yet she supposed she’d always known this moment would come.

His lips closed over hers at last, and she moaned at the touch. The same heat that had filled her from the touch of his hands filled her now from his lips. She felt his tongue jabbing at her closed mouth and her lips parted to allow him entrance. Angela moaned at the sweetness. She tasted no mint, no gum, just him. His arms went around her and pulled her closer, taking her deeper into the kiss, and her own arms went around his neck.

She felt his erection pressing into her hips and moved so that it could press against the spot she wanted it most, the juncture of her thighs.

When he released her, she was breathless. His eyes were asking a question and hers were answering yes. They went inside and she only prayed he would keep his mouth closed and not spoil the dream. What was happening was magical. She watched as he locked the door, then slid the dead bolt in place. Only then did she remember that she didn’t have any condoms. Her eyes snapped to his face.

“Don’t worry, I have something,” he said as his arms slid around her. She felt him loosening the rubber band from her ponytail and running his fingers through her hair. He lifted her in his arms as though she were a feather.

“Where is it?”

She pointed the way to her bedroom, afraid to speak, afraid of wanting him. This was crazy. She hated the man, had done nothing for the past two months but make his life miserable as she tried to get him into trouble.

“Why?” she asked as he entered her bedroom with her in his arms.

“The same reason that you’re not screaming your head off. I want to find out why I feel this electrical charge when we touch. I want to know why it leaves me with a burning sensation.”

At least he was honest. Neither had spoken of an attraction, just a curiosity and a need to know. One time and that would be the end of it. One by one he slowly undid the buttons of her blouse, looking at her in a way that affected her almost as much as his touch. It was as though he was dragging liquid fire across her flesh. He left a path of heat and she knew he felt it too in the way that he touched her.

She was trembling, partly out of fear that she was about to start something that wouldn’t be as easy to stop as she wanted to believe. Surely this could be nothing more than lust. But Angela had known lust in her life and it had never felt like this. Not for one moment had her skin ever sizzled.

She was lying on her bed topless and he was staring down at her. She tilted her head and reached for his shirt and unbuttoned it as slowly as he’d unbuttoned her blouse. Then she allowed her fingers to connect with his flesh, running her hand down the plane of his abdomen, feeling his muscles tighten and bunch, feeling him jerk as she touched him. The heat from his body was scorching her skin.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Angela realized she was looking for answers. She’d hoped when he kissed her the feelings she was beginning to have for him would cool, that she could logically know what was happening, be able to put a word to it. But she couldn’t.

She tossed his shirt into the same corner where hers had landed and lay back and waited, wishing she had on a bra that closed in the front. It would be so much more romantic. Not only didn’t she have that but she had on a plain white bra and to her chagrin, blue panties.

Who’d known when she’d entered the market that she’d care she had on underwear that didn’t match, wasn’t sexy, and wasn’t her best by far. Now when it was too late, she remembered her mother always saying, “You never know if you’ll be in an accident. Always wear your best underwear.”

Angela was sure her mother hadn’t meant the kind of accident she was about to find herself in. And surely it had to be some kind of mysterious accident that found her in bed with this man that she hated.

She looked into his green eyes and waited as he deftly undid the clasp from the back with a bit more expertise than she liked. She frowned slightly before remembering this for what it was. This was sex, nothing more.

“Tell me again, why are we doing this?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“To keep from killing each other.”

That was as good a reason as any. At least Angela knew he was under no illusion that this was the beginning of a relationship. She wouldn’t have to do a big song and dance about how she would never sleep with a Chicago cop. Scratch that, how she would never become emotionally involved with one. Because she knew within the next few moments there was nothing short of an earthquake that would stop her from making love with the man staring at her. And even an earthquake might not be enough.

His heated gaze swept over her, then landed on her waist and stayed for a moment before reconnecting with her eyes. She kicked her shoes off, not breaking contact, and lifted her hips, allowing him to pull away first her jeans, then her horrible panties.

He paused and she wished he’d hurry that part. Her panties were the worst thing for a seduction, not even silk, but cotton, courtesy of her mother of course.

Angela’s eyes closed and she felt the cotton sliding from her hips, felt his fingers brushing her skin and heating the parts that he touched. She didn’t think she could get any hotter, but she did.

She felt his lips kiss her belly. The coarse fabric of his jeans scratched her and she opened her eyes again. Their gazes locked as she sat up and unfastened his jeans and slid them down his hips, stopping every inch of so to caress his perfection.

Never in her life had she known a man who possessed a body that one could only dream of. He lay for a moment beside her and allowed her to pull the pants, then his briefs, from his muscular frame.

She sucked in her breath, felt a moment’s hesitation and again looked at him, at his beautiful eyes, and she saw his own uncertainty. Suddenly his indecision dispelled hers.

She touched her finger lightly to his abdomen, ran it down his middle and found his center and circled him, his flesh in her hand hot and quivering. She looked once more into his eyes. All signs of hesitation had vanished.

For one moment Raphael wavered. He’d seen the hesitation in her eyes, and he’d halted in his exploration of her body while some semblance of common sense returned.

He wondered what the hell would be the price for making love to her. Would she scream rape? Then she touched him and he no longer cared. The only thought he had was to bury himself deep inside her. At the moment it didn’t matter that she hated him.

Raphael’s gaze was snagged by the iced topaz turning to fire. He plumbed their depths and saw the source of the heat. He shivered inwardly, thinking he’d taken a tiny peek into her soul. Her soul was pure fire, not ice. He wasted no time with amenities. He needed her now and as he slid the condom over his hardened flesh, his eyes remained glued on her face for any sign that she was changing her mind. He prayed to God that she wouldn’t.

Raphael entered her. A supreme feeling of belonging overcame every objection about the right or wrong of his actions. Before he could stop himself, he fell onto her, crushing her to him. Hearing her gasp of pleasure, his moan combined with hers and they shook simultaneously. She might lie later, but for now he knew their joining was as spiritual for her as it was for him.

With a certainty he knew Angela Reed was the one his godmother, his
madrina
had spoken of. His flesh melded into hers and they became one. He heard the sounds she made in her throat, and saw the look of surprise before she closed her eyes. Her legs came around his waist and he knew what she wanted, to bring him closer. He was feeling the same. As close as they were he wanted more.

Raphael wanted all of her. His arms went around her back and he lifted her from the pillows. Her eyes opened and the look she gave him freed his heart. One by one the barriers that had protected him came tumbling down and in their place a tremendous fear was born.

He smelled and sensed danger for the third time now while in this woman’s presence. And now it had a name. This woman had laid claim to his very soul. The truth of that was frightening. A woman who hated him was taking something from him that he’d never meant to give, his soul. And Raphael was unable to pull away.

He wondered briefly if she’d hexed him. When he heard her moan and saw the fear in her eyes, he knew she was wondering the same thing about him. He kissed her then, deep and hard, loving the feel of her, her nails digging into his flesh. He loved the sounds she made, the smell of her and for the moment he enjoyed knowing he’d found the other half of his soul.

He thrust into her hard and fast, feeling the slickness, feeling the heat, feeling hard. He grew even more as he rode her, his flesh harder than he could ever remember. As he filled her, the sheer tightness of her body inflamed him, and he growled loudly.

The sound was primal, as much so as that of a male bear finally finding his mate. He knew, his body, soul and heart knew. He couldn’t get enough of her. Half of him never wanted the moment to end. The other half wanted it to end so he could begin again at the beginning.

When they came it was amidst a thunderous roar of sounds and lights. They were clinging to each other forever, it seemed. He never wanted it to end, never wanted to let go of her, to look into her eyes and see the fire replaced by the ice.

He held her tightly, murmuring to her, “
Usted es el
.” He repeated “you’re the one” in Spanish again, not wanting to feel vulnerable, not wanting her to know what he’d said without meaning to.

For the remainder of the night they made love in every conceivable fashion and when they were at last spent and sated, they slept in each other’s arms. The words they’d uttered had been murmured in the throes of passions, words that could be forgiven, forgotten.

Raphael fell asleep knowing that the woman in his arms had to know that to destroy him she’d not needed the department, just the possibility that Raphael would find love. He didn’t need that. He needed to remain apart. Damn. This woman had forever ended that. She had completed him and made him whole. Without a doubt he knew she was indeed his soul mate. There was only one problem with that: He wasn’t in love with her and she sure as hell wasn’t in love with him.

Chapter 5

Golden sunshine poured through the slates of the blinds and was barely filtered by the curtains that covered them. Raphael blinked in confusion, his senses alert, his body deliciously achy. He felt silk brush his arm and slid his glance over to the right.

Angela was cradled there, her hair caressing him. He looked down on her face in disbelief. Never in his life had he expected or even dared hope for the pleasure he’d received last night. He’d made love to an angel and he’d found the other half of his soul.

His mind screamed out, “This is just sex, just sex.” But the pads of his fingers trailed the outline of her body, imprinting it for a lifetime. And he knew the words his mind yelled out were a lie.

He looked around the room trying his best to move as little as possible. He didn’t want to wake her up. He glanced at the clock, grateful that this was his day off, or he’d have missed roll call. It was after eight.

He took in the contents of her bedroom, all feminine articles, nothing masculine. He smiled, then curved his body around hers and breathed in her scent. The smell of their loving clung to her but still he smelled her uniqueness. The scent teased him. He wanted to make love to her again but was unsure what her reaction would be when she awoke.

Raphael thought of a strong cup of coffee. That was what he needed, that and a shower. He moved away from the warmth of her body and eased from the bed. Leaning down, he kissed her eyelids. Again he smiled as he made his way to the shower.

* * *

Angela held her breath, not knowing how she had not moved. She’d felt his heat moving away from her body and had awakened instantly. She’d felt the butterfly kisses and held her breath, listening to the sounds he was making.

Only when she heard the noise of running water did she dare turn around. She held the pillow with the indention of his head to her chest. What had she done? A cop. A Chicago cop. And not just any Chicago cop, but one that worked at the very station she hated most. God, what a mess.

He’d made her feel things that she never had and still she was no closer to having an answer than she was before she slept with him. Yes, he had the power to make her burn, but why? She wanted to know. She also wanted to know why it was that she now felt a bond with Rafe Remeris like none she ever felt with another person in her entire life. Not her parents and not her brother. What did it mean that she felt this connection to a man she hated?

Angela trembled at the unwanted answer. This had been about sex, nothing more. The sounds of the water stopped, and she heard him at the sink and wondered if he was thinking of using her toothbrush. She’d kill him. Should she offer him one of the new brushes inside her bathroom drawer? She shook herself. Why was she worrying about his comfort?

Actually, it wasn’t Rafe that worried her. It was the fact that she was worrying about him that worried her. As the door to the bathroom opened, she turned slightly away. Pretending to still be asleep she watched as he put on his briefs, then slid the jeans over his hips. She moaned inwardly at his masculine beauty.

She wondered if he would now leave without saying a word to her and how she would feel if he did. Still, she did not budge, just remained quiet, waiting to hear the sound of her front door closing before getting out of the bed.

The sound of the front door closing didn’t come. Instead she heard Raphael moving around in her kitchen, opening things, and after awhile, she smelled the pungent aroma of strong coffee.

That smell alone pulled her from the bed and into the shower, where she made quick work of washing his scent from her body. She wasn’t going to go all mushy over what had happened.

As she came into the kitchen, the sight of Raphael cooking was too comfortable, something she’d neither asked for nor wanted. She stood silently in the doorway, watching. He turned and smiled at her and her heart lurched in her chest.

No
, she screamed inwardly.
This
is only sex, nothing more
.

“Hi.” Raphael held out a cup. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“You’ve taken more than I offered and made yourself at home. This is not a relationship,” Angela said, not reaching for the cup.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed and for one moment she saw hurt before it was quickly replaced by anger. He walked toward her, his green gaze holding hers, and she watched as he silently fished his wallet from his pocket and withdrew a twenty.

“Will this cover it?” Raphael asked.

“Exactly what are you attempting to pay for?”

“The things you didn’t offer freely…” He paused. “Your food. Will this cover the eggs and coffee?”

Angela took the twenty from his outstretched palm, looked at it for a second, folded it and looked back up at him.

“As long as you clean up your mess.”

She watched as he shook his head and again extended the cup he’d offered her before. This time she accepted it.

“What do you think happened last night?” she asked as she looked away.

She had to know and was hoping he’d have the answer because she sure didn’t. She took a sip of the coffee, glad that he’d moved away. Last night had been crazy. She could forgive herself for her error in judgment. But she couldn’t explain what was going on now. Why her heart was beating so fast. Why the mere presence of Rafe in her kitchen seemed so right. Like he belonged there. She took another sip of the coffee.

“I think we may have called a truce,” Raphael answered, fingering his mug.

She looked at him, seeing much more in his eyes than what his words were saying. “What are you expecting from me?” she asked.

Raphael tilted his head back, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to tell her what he expected or what he wanted. He watched as the ice returned to her eyes. What he really wanted was to have her cold hatred vanish forever. If he never saw iced topaz again in life it would be too soon.

What he wanted was the eyes that blazed with warmth, with desire, with lust. He took another sip of coffee, not surprised to find it now cold. The ice that flowed in the woman’s veins had chilled his once hot coffee. He’d made love to an angel and now she had morphed into a hellion.

“Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t feel the things I felt?” Raphael inquired, hurt, trying to keep his longing from his voice.

“I wouldn’t know what you felt. I’m not a mind reader.”

He swallowed. He’d hoped in vain, he now realized. She wouldn’t admit that something had changed in the hours they had made love.

“You’re right; you’re not a mind reader, but I thought for sure we had at least ended the war. Like I said, I think we have found a way to not kill each other.” He saw her trying not to smile and pushed on. “Would that be a fair statement?”

“I’ll agree to that,” she answered.

He noticed her embarrassment. “I don’t know about you,” Raphael smiled, “but I would rather we kept it like this than fight.”

“Just sex?”

“Not exactly what I was saying. That’s kind of crude and disrespectful to both of us, don’t you think? Besides, I think it was more than just sex.”

“Look, you’re a cop. I might as well be up front. I hate cops. That’s not going to change. Last night more than likely was a fluke. Probably because we hate each other, it made it more, more…”

“I’d agree if it had been once or twice, but it happened more than a dozen times. Even when I was a horny teenager that never happened.”

He wanted to add he’d never before been to heaven with an angel, that his soul had never joined in the act of making love, but he didn’t. He knew she would lie about her own feeling.

“Why do you hate cops?”

“I have my reasons.”

“People change.”

“I won’t, not about this.”

“I’m more than a cop.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’re a cop and that’s always what I’m going to see.”

“Even when I’m making love to you?”

“You talk as if this is going to become a habit.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Neither am I.”

Angela stared at Rafe, forcing him to return her gaze. “Let’s make sure we both understand what we’re saying so later there will be no misunderstanding. We’re in this only for fun. When it stops being fun, we end it, no hard feelings.”

Raphael lowered his eyes and deliberately let them wander over her body. He was being offered every man’s dream—a fantastic physical relationship with no strings attached. “Can we at least be friends?” he asked.

“I’m not looking for any friends,” she replied.

He couldn’t help staring. “Well, can we stop snipping at each other?”

Angela stared hard into the marble green eyes. “The sex was good. I wouldn’t mind…” She didn’t know what to say. “We’re not going to consider this dating or anything crazy like that. No going out to dinner, no movies, nothing.”

“I got it,” Raphael answered. “We’re not a couple. No going out in public.”

He saw the quick change that came over her. She could give it but taking it appeared to be a bit harder. It seemed his tough-as-nails angel wasn’t as tough as she pretended to be.

“It’s not a very good idea for me to be seen in public in the neighborhood with you anyway. I’m still under investigation. Besides that, I’ve been ordered to stay the hell away from you.”

“So why haven’t you?”

He grinned widely. “Do you really need me to answer that question?”

“Yes.”

“The electrical charge,” he answered. “I had to know why it happened.”

“And do you know why?” Angela asked.

“No,” Raphael nearly whispered. “I have no idea,” he lied. What good would it do to tell her the truth? They were soul mates, two people destined to be together. Only he bet fate hadn’t counted on the fact that neither of them would even like the other.

“I’ve never had a sexual…a…a…I’ve never made arrangements like this with anyone,” Angela said looking away from Rafe.

He sensed her embarrassment. “I have,” he answered, and waited until she turned to face him. “But I always paid for it.” He watched while the iced topaz froze more solidly. “You’re jumping to conclusions. That wasn’t what I was saying about you. I was just trying to make you feel better about this.”

“You didn’t do a very good job.”

“Then let me try again. This is a first for me also. I don’t believe in becoming emotionally involved with people. In my line of work it’s much too dangerous. Relationships can be a distraction.”

“And I won’t be a distraction?”

Raphael smiled. “You said it yourself. This isn’t a relationship. It should work well for us both. I only ask one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You didn’t answer about the snapping at each other. Can we stop it?”

“We can try.”

He grinned again. “Now that that’s settled, want to tell me why you hate cops so much?”

“No.”

“Want to tell me who you’re visiting in the prison?” He watched the change come over her face, felt the chill in the room and wished he’d kept his mouth closed.

“Look, if this is going to work, there will have to be rules. No asking me personal questions. I don’t like you, let’s get that clear. What I do is my business. You’re not privy to that information. You’re not a part of my life; you’re not a part of my heart. We’ve made a bargain for sex, no matter what you want to call it. What we do and say will be done in the bed. When we’re not in bed, we’re not anything.”

She slammed the mug down on the table. “You are nothing to me. I don’t care about you. Get that clear. You have no right to ask me questions.” She stormed out of the room.

Raphael watched as she left the room. There was a lot more to this fiery woman than he’d thought. Not only wasn’t she as tough as she pretended to be, she was hurting. He should have been angry with her but instead he felt compassion. He had his own share of loved ones in prisons throughout the country. He knew she thought of him as the enemy, only he wasn’t.

He thought of leaving but didn’t. Instead, he returned to fixing her breakfast, and when it was done, he made a plate for her and took it to the bedroom where she was holed up. Then he sat at the kitchen table and ate his own. He might not like her, but he did understand.