by Misty Dietz
When she turned around, he was in her space. Like right there. She tilted her head back to look at him and swallowed hard. Oh man, he smelled gooood. Layered notes of orange and lime and a vague memory of the ocean from her childhood.
“Any cook worth his or her salt gets used to rip-roaring messes. You’ve got a doozy. Guess it’s your lucky day I’m here.” He tapped her on the nose and walked in.
Twenty minutes later, the stove sparkled, the quiche was baking, and Scourge was fast asleep on Jessie’s lap as she shuffled her Constitutional Law notes on the table. Not that she’d been able to concentrate with Nate’s fine ass moving around her kitchen like he owned the place. Of course, she could always hope that osmosis worked because Lord knew she’d practically burned a hole in the pages looking at them.
At least things had finally quieted down next door, so she’d begun to relax.
Nate sat down across from her and handed her a glass of Gewurztraminer. “Sorry, it’s all I have at the moment.” One side of his lips lifted. “Cheers.”
Her glass clinked against his before she sipped the wine. “It’s nice. I don’t drink much, so this is a treat.” She gestured to the oven. “Hey, if you want to go home now, I can bring the quiche over when it’s ready.”
“Tossing me out already?”
“I thought it’d be more like a get out of jail free card for you.”
He tugged on a coil of hair by her ear. “On the contrary. I’ve been trying to think of a way to ask you out since the mailbox incident a few of weeks ago.”
When her pen fumbled to the floor, she was thankful Scourge was on her lap to give her hands something to do. “That was not my fault.” Her overheating face said otherwise, however. It took a special kind of stupid to get your hair stuck in a metal mail box. “I’m telling you, poltergeists live in those little black holes.” She took back-to-back gulps of wine. Seriously, why was he here? What would a girl like her have to offer a guy like him? She’d bet a whole week’s bartending tips that she was frumpville compared to the other girls who crossed his path on a daily basis.
He stood up from the table, and just like that, her fairy tale was about to end. He would leave now, but that was A-okay because prince charmings didn’t compute in her world. She had bills to pay, grades to maintain, an uncle to avenge, grandparents to care for, new employers to impress—
“Bring your glass and come here, Jessica.” He held his hand out to her.
“Where are we going?”
His slow smile mocked her. “Do you always need to know all the answers before you leap?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. Prosecutors always press for the truth,” she said in case he hadn’t noticed any of the law books on her table.
He winked, sat down on her couch, and patted the cushion next to him. “So, no defense law in store for you.” It wasn’t a question. “Gonna save the day as a prosecutor then. That’s brilliant.”
That slight English accent was terribly alluring. As was the invitation to sit next to him. She chose her favorite threadbare chair instead, then stripped off her socks. Scourge soon claimed her lap. “Have you been in the States long?” she asked. He’d moved into the building exactly forty-five days ago. She remembered it well because it was the same day Uncle Mason had called to tell her he’d been blackmailed into selling his nightclub.
“More or less.” He swirled the sweet, woodsy liquid in his glass. “I bloom where I’m planted. Now tell me, why law?”
It was the first time he’d spoken that he hadn’t looked her in the eye. Her curiosity was piqued. She opened her mouth to call him on his evasive answer, then closed it. This wasn’t Moot Court, and acting like a pitbull tended to get exhausting after a spell. Not to mention, it wasn’t the best way to get to know a guy. She drank the rest of her wine and settled back into the chair. A pleasant tingling began to wind about her legs. “I want to be a voice for vulnerable populations—battered women, children, the elderly, disabled veterans.”
“Ah, my initial impression was correct then. You’re an angel in a world of demons.” His eyes seemed to pulse with warmth, sincerity, and…something else.
Jessie smiled, feeling warm in an entirely nice way. She pushed her sweatshirt sleeves up and pet Scourge slowly, a delicious contentment seeping through her. “I hesitate to correct your assumption, but the only angels in my family are my grandparents, Tillie and Walt. They share a love like you’ve never seen.”
His eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “You must take after them, though. You mentioned earlier that they all but raised you.”
“Yes, fortunately for me, otherwise my mother—” Her gaze dropped to where Scourge snored on her lap. The wine was making her tongue loose. Most people found out about her notorious mother eventually, but right now Jessie wasn’t ready for over-sharing.
“Your mum?” Nate’s question came out soft, his eyes clear and focused. It would be so easy to spill her family’s dirty laundry.
He wasn’t the only one who could be evasive, however. “Have you ever wondered how a child could turn out so differently from his or her family?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact—”
She would have loved to hear what he’d been about to say, but the wall banging re-commenced next door. Nate threw back his head and belly laughed so deeply she couldn’t help but giggle, too.
“No wonder you got so distracted, Angel,” he said.
No one had ever called her an angel. Not even as a child. It was nice. Especially the way he spoke the endearment, slowly, meaningfully, like he was savoring each letter on his tongue.
Moments later, his insinuation dawned on her. She glanced around the kitchen, remembering her ‘mess-interrupted’ and cringed. “They didn’t distract me with their…uh, their…”
“Fucking?”
The illicit word from his lips made her whole body tingle. “No!”
“Oh, but I think they did. And they are.” His gaze was filled with heat. And he was smirking, the beast.
“That’s not what I…You…I wasn’t leaving because I had to get away from that.”
He shook his head. “You are a horrible liar. Apropos for an angel.”
“Well, give me a break, that sexual marathon isn’t normal.” Scourge yipped and growled on her lap, irritated by her agitation.
“On the contrary. It appears no one has ever showed you how much of a journey lovemaking can be.” He paused, his eyes once again tracking slowly from her lips to her breasts, lower, down to her bare toes. Her breath caught and held, frozen while her heart pumped hard in her chest. His eyes smoldered when his gaze returned to hers. “I’d be delighted to initiate you.”
Outrageous!
But…she liked it.
Almost as much as she liked the way his lips slid past his teeth on that infernally slow smile. “You are curiously depraved,” she whispered.
He stood, lifted Scourge out of her lap, placing him on the couch. “Quite. Put it on a t-shirt for me?”
“No t-shirt big enough to fit your vainglorious ego.”
“Be careful, big words turn me on. But tell me, since when does having an ego equate with depravity?” He leaned down to place his hands on the chair arm rests, boxing her in.
She cleared her throat. “Since when does a metrosexual know how to cook?” Or have a brain? This guy was more trouble than a wired eighteen-year-old in a strip club.
“I didn’t figure you for the judgmental type. Stereotypes can be dangerous.”
“More like early warning systems for modern women.”
“What are you worried about?”
She blew out a breath, but it didn’t help one damn bit. “You.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m here because I rather like you.”
But why? Why do you like me? “I know nothing about you other than you drive a beat-to-hell pickup, you’re exceedingly permissive with your friends, and by the smell of it, you know how to make a mouthwatering quiche. That’s it.”
/> Next door, the man’s groans merged with the woman’s growing crescendo of staccato cries. Jessie shifted in her seat, her body achy and warm. The sounds were getting to Nate, too. She could see it in his eyes. The way his gaze kept drifting to her breasts. He straightened, his hands sliding down his pants like his palms were sweaty.
“What else would you like to know?” His voice was gravelly.
The woman next door had to be dying by now from the cadence of those moans. “How can anyone go on for so long?”
“That sounds like a challenge I can’t refuse.” He pulled her up into his arms, and her skin ignited.
Chapter 2
Nate Temple hummed deep in his throat. Jessie’s tongue was raw sugar in his mouth. He never thought he’d find someone who resurrected his muted senses the way she did. He’d heard about the phenomenon, especially with bonded Guardian pairs, but he hadn’t cared, figuring his enhanced abilities—super-human speed, strength, and hearing—made his other numbed senses a fair trade.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed them until that first day he’d passed Jessie in the hall, the wild pink streak in her light brown, corkscrew hair a show of defiance that he longed to touch. Her outfit that day suggested she’d returned from a jaunt to the gym, as did the provocative flush on her cheeks.
A flush that he would pay a fortune to experience resurrected in the throes of passion.
Somehow she’d brought his world back to living color, taste, and scent since his death during a Zeppelin bombing raid on London’s East End in 1915.
Right now, he had to feel her entire weight in his arms. Grabbing the back of her legs beneath her bum, he pulled her thighs up and apart to wrap around his trunk. He went in for another taste of her mouth but found layers of her scarf instead. “Stuff these bloody accessories! Why do women wear such buggery things?”
He pivoted and went down on one knee to settle her on the sofa. She pulled off the offensive scarf, then grasped the bottom edge of her sweatshirt. A strangled sound erupted from his throat at her sudden bold moves after such alluring hints of shyness. And…
By the Devil!
He rubbed his hands down his pant legs and inhaled forcefully. There were those soft mocha breasts he’d dreamt about. He spared a moment to take her in. Had he ever seen more magnificent breasts? He tried to speak to tell her how perfect they were, but his mouth couldn’t wait. His palms slid up her midsection to cup the heavy weight. She shuddered, her fingers threading through his hair when his tongue planted broad strokes against her tight nipples.
The messy bun atop her head failed to constrain the curly, light-capturing strands of brown, gold, and hot pink next to an entirely suckable ear. “I fancy your cheeky hair,” he whispered.
“I fancy your breath on my skin,” she sighed back.
One by one, he took the pins out of her hair until it sprung down to hover about her shoulders as though it had life of its own. He pushed her knees wide and laid flush against her, pressing her into the sofa, breathing her beachy coconut and berries scent deep into his pores as he took one velvety earlobe between his teeth. Her arms came around him, pulling him closer to her pillowy breasts.
How had he ever been attracted to the willowy type? Comparing all those women to curvy Jessica was like putting a stack of granola bars next to a hot fudge sundae.
No comparison.
“You feel, smell, and mmm…taste so good.” He slid his fingers under the waistband of her booty-hugging pants. “I really love your bum in these trousers, but I think it’s time they come off.” His hands lifted her bottom to pull the black yoga pants down her legs to pool around her ankles. Lacy knickers rode low on her hips. “Damn, you’re lush.” He wanted to lick her all over. She squirmed under his perusal, clamped her legs together, and pulled a throw blanket against her belly.
He tried to slide it away. “No, I must see you.”
“You can see me,” she insisted.
“Not all of you.”
“Turn off the lights.”
“Bloody hell, no. I’ve been dying for this moment. I’m not missing anything.”
Her cheeks were flush, she wasn’t looking at him, and this was all wrong suddenly. He tried to dispel the hard grip of lust that had him wound tighter than a ten-day clock. “Do you want to stop?”
“No. I’d like…I would feel better if the lights were off. At least most of them.” She spoke to the floor.
What? Self-conscious? “Woman, you’re hourglass personified. A walking wet dream.” He ran his hands up her thighs under the blanket to caress her lace thong. His thumbs dipped to press at her warm, wet center, and her head settled back against the cushions. She shifted to stretch her legs a little. Still, she didn’t release her death grip on the blanket. “Who’s the duffer who made you feel like you need to cover yourself?”
Her eyes snapped open as she scooted up. “No one. I can see for myself what my gut looks like. Geez. If I thought this was going to turn into a therapy session, I would’ve put on a pot of coffee first.” The blanket came up to cover her breasts now, too.
This was not the way he’d envisioned this going down. He repressed a sigh, sat beside her, and hauled her into his lap.
“Wait!” she squeaked.
“Belt up, I was content to worship your ripe body, but since you’re the one who started in on the lights business, we’re going to suss it out so we can shoot it down and get on with the fun stuff. Right?” Her bum was so warm and full on his lap he was going to have to concentrate on dead puppies or, hell, intestine-shredded demons to prevent coming in his jeans right now. “Blast, Jessie. Don’t. Move. Like that.” Sweat broke out on his brow. It was the closest he’d come to prematurely blowing his junk since he’d been a human teenager. He stood with her in his arms and strode into her dark bedroom. He plunked her down on the bed so abruptly her breasts bounced, and—glory hallelujah!—he’d never been so happy to have Guardian-enhanced night vision.
He yanked the blanket off her, his body taking its place in a heartbeat. “It’s dark. Feel better now?” His lips found her neck, one forearm next to her head, as his free hand couldn’t seem to cover enough of her satin landscape.
She arched her head back into the mattress, wriggled her legs apart, and gasped as his bulge made contact with her thong.
This woman bled passion, but he was entirely too far gone to bother with the psychology behind her sex-with-the-lights-off dysfunction. That was not okay, but he was too much of an arsehole to take the high road and fix this right now.
But he would. The challenge both rattled and exhilarated him. A sick mix of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Her hands swiveled low on his abdomen. His gut muscles recoiled from her touch as she yanked on the edges of his shirt, unsnapping the bottom buttons. He leaned up to let her finish the job, unable to take his gaze from her face, knowing she couldn’t see him and that she assumed the same of him. He’d never seen such a look of raw hunger on any woman’s face.
He slid down her body, teeth nipping, tongue sampling the softness of her skin all the way down to her legs. When his knees came off the bed, he pulled her bum to the edge of the mattress and dispensed with her knickers. “You want this, Jessica?”
“I dooo—”
His mouth was on her before she even finished her utterance. Her erotic vocalizations were making him barmy. He pushed her legs wider and —
Nate, I need you at ETHER immediately.
Nate groaned to hear Alexios speak in his head. Like Nate, Alexios was a member of Unholy Inc, a world-wide network of Guardian nightclubs which served as hubs for their demon-hunting activities. Alexios also happened to be the first created Guardian—which meant he was bloody ancient.
Go away, you Spartan sod. I’m busy, Nate pushed telepathically back at him, massaging Jessie, reaching up to palm her breast with his other hand. He could feel her body drawing tighter, pulling her up into a mass of sensations that he could metaphysically translate
when he closed his eyes. Her passion manifested in a complex blast of jewel-toned colors that exploded behind his eyelids like a kaleidoscope with a hundred mirrors.
Amazing.
He’d gladly die a hundred deaths to wallow in these rich colors and patterns with her.
“Ooo.”
“Yes, Jessie. Come for me, Angel.”
Jinx returned from recon. Based on her intel, something’s going down on TERRA’s opening night.
No way should he respond to Alexios. Didn’t matter if his earlier conversation with the Guardian leader had left him uneasy. Right now, as he drank from Jessie, tasted her, her thighs were shaking, her hips bucking, and he’d never felt so overwhelmingly alive since the moment of his death more than a hundred years ago. And wasn’t that something? It was intriguing, addicting, and…
Alarming.
If you aren’t at ETHER in fifteen minutes, I’m going to put you on Incubus duty for two fortnights.
Nate gave Jessie one more broad tongue stroke, and she careened off the cliff. She reached for him as her body calmed so he crawled onto the bed to lie beside her. She turned toward him, her hands moving toward his button fly. “Thank you for that,” she whispered. “It’s been a long time.”
“Mankind’s loss.” His, too, because he had to leave before gorging himself on the Jessie buffet. She scooted down to press kisses against his chest where his heart beat a rapid rhythm. Blast and damn, he didn’t want to put her to sleep. Alexios, you’ll pay for this, you dodgy wanker.
Deep echoes of the Guardian’s laughter only reinforced Nate’s desire for revenge.
“You’re beautiful, Jessica.”
“So are you, Nate.”
He blinked at her for a moment, his name on her lips affecting him more strongly than he could have imagined. His body pulsed, hungry for release as he grasped both of her lovely, wandering hands, pulled them over her head, and rolled on top of her. The kiss he’d meant as a claiming, turned out to be much softer. So much more intimate. When they were both breathless, he pulled back to caress her face, his heart heavy with an unfamiliar disquiet. His time was running out if he wanted to avoid a month’s worth of hunting demons who raped people in their sleep.