She's No Angel

by Leslie Kelly

  By the time he’d finished, Jen was sitting up on the couch a few inches away, watching with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He understood the reaction…. The story was pretty fucking bizarre.

  “Wait, let me get this straight,” Jen said. “Her best friend from childhood is a nut who’s been in and out of treatment all her life. And the friend decides she wants you for herself. So she tries to kill your girlfriend, whose life you save by taking the intended bullet.”

  “Right.”

  “Then you get dumped and she stands by the insane friend who tried to kill her?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Are you sure they didn’t meet in an asylum or something? Because I think they both sound whacked.” Jen’s face paled and her mouth opened once, then snapped closed. As if she was just now putting together a bunch of things that hadn’t made sense to her before. He could almost bet he knew what they were.

  “She’s the reason you don’t let your guard down easily, I suppose,” she finally murmured.

  “Maybe.”

  “And the reason you don’t particularly trust women.”

  “I guess.”

  “The reason you were so worried that I was a nut case.”

  Mike couldn’t prevent a grin. When she saw it, Jen smiled, too, then jabbed an index finger toward him. “And there’s that. I hate her for that.”

  “What?”

  “The bitch is the one who stole your smile, isn’t she?”

  She sounded violent, ready to tear someone up. On his behalf. Which turned him on so much, he immediately stood, tugging her up to stand beside him. “Let’s go to bed.”

  Jen nodded, her eyes glittering. “You go get the handcuffs.”

  Throwing his head back, Mike let out a deep laugh, his shoulders shaking, his whole body relaxing. The tension he’d felt at the very thought of telling Jen what had happened in his past had been for nothing. The woman had reacted with the same feisty certainty that had attracted him to her from the moment they’d met. Breezing past the rough stuff with righteous anger and sexy humor. The way she always did.

  Her hand wrapped in his, he headed toward the bedroom. But Jen paused, tugging her hand free. “Give me a couple of minutes,” she said, her voice suddenly much softer. Then, pointing toward his coat jacket, which he’d tossed across the back of a chair, she added, “I believe the cuffs are in the right pocket.”

  Mike did as she asked, watching her almost trip as she hurried toward the guest room where they’d been sleeping. Though the waiting nearly killed him, he gave her a full five minutes, counting down the seconds on his watch. Then, swinging the metal bracelets on the tip of his finger and smiling as he wondered if she really wanted to use them, he headed for the bedroom.

  The moment he stepped inside, he knew he was in for a night he would never forget. “Ho-ly…”

  Jen had used her five minutes well. On each of the bedside tables, several lit candles provided soft illumination in the otherwise dark room. The bed had been turned down invitingly. Satiny white sheets—which had not been on it the previous night—caught the soft candlelight and reflected it back.

  Someone had been shopping today.

  He caught her mood—sultry, sensuous, seductive—before he even saw her. Once he did, his heart stopped completely.

  “Jen,” he whispered, unable to say another thing. Because she apparently hadn’t shopped just for linens.

  She stood between the bed and the mirrored doors to an enormous closet that extended along almost an entire wall. So his first glimpse of her included not only her lightly veiled body, but also its erotic reflection.

  He simply didn’t know where to look first.

  “Well?” she asked, no nervousness, no trace of hesitation to be heard. She was confident and entirely sure of herself, and of his desire for her.

  “You take my breath away.”

  She wore white. Though, wore wasn’t the right word—she was being caressed by white, the soft, wispy fabric floating over her body, not actually clothing it.

  The top of her incredibly sexy nightgown was made of satin or silk. Its spaghetti straps strained to hold the glittering fabric crossing tightly over her gorgeous breasts. Cut low, it plumped them up, pushed them together to provide a mind-numbing amount of cleavage. Her tight brown nipples jutted against the material and his mouth flooded with moisture as he imagined sampling her through the cloth again, as he had through her skirt that night in her apartment.

  Directly below her breasts, the satin was replaced by some kind of lacy sheer stuff that floated around the rest of her body in a shimmering cloud of softness and light. It dropped in filmy fragments to the floor, but none were connected. Each piece appeared independent of the others, parting and settling back with her breaths and the subtle shifts of her body.

  Every movement provided him with another tantalizing glimpse of her beautiful form—a slender calf, her creamy stomach, the line of a hip and, in the mirror, the high round curve of her naked backside—all being displayed and then concealed. Samples—tastes—meant to increase his appetite.

  “Are you coming?” she asked as she walked over to the bed and slid onto it, the material of her dress immediately disappearing against the satiny sheets.

  He could be coming any second, just by standing here watching her. But Mike had more control than that. He planned to savor every bit of her tonight, for as long as humanly possible.

  When he saw what was on her legs, however, he felt another inch of that control fall away. Because as she leaned back against the mountain of plumped-up pillows, bending one leg up and letting her gown fall completely out of the way, he realized she was wearing a pair of stockings. Delicate white fabric covered each of her legs, from her toes up over her thighs. At the top of each was a flirty pink bow—the only glimpse of color, other than her rosy skin, against that sea of white.

  Eventually, the gown would come off. Even if he had to rip each layer away to get at the treasures it pretended to conceal.

  But the stockings were staying on.

  “Come over here,” she said, extending her hand for him.

  Mike did as she asked, tugging off his clothes, piece by piece, as he approached the bed. Jen never tore her gaze away, devouring him with those blue-gray eyes until he reached her side. When he pushed off his briefs, allowing his raging cock to burst free, her mouth fell open in a hungry whimper.

  He had no idea what she intended to do with that mouth until she leaned over and covered him with it.

  “Jen,” he groaned, helpless with pleasure as she licked the head of his shaft, sucking gently, then sliding down to take more of him.

  Unable to resist, he reached down and twined his fingers in her hair, applying no pressure, just wanting the silkiness against his skin. He closed his eyes, giving himself over to her, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take this intimate attention for long but wanting to enjoy it for a few moments more.

  Though the thought of letting her take him to the edge with her amazing mouth was incredibly appealing, he was selfish and wanted to do too many other things to let it end so quickly. But he was no saint. He didn’t ask her to stop too soon.

  Opening his eyes, he glanced across the bed at the mirrored closet doors. Feeling what she was doing was amazing. Watching her as she did it almost made his legs give out.

  His heart raced as he saw the way she’d lick and nibble on him—pressing tiny kisses all the way down the back of his shaft. It nearly exploded when she’d plunge her mouth over him again, taking as much of him as she could, managing to devour maybe half of what he had to give her.

  Helpless little whimpers emerged from her full mouth. She shifted restlessly on the bed, her legs falling open as her own hunger built. A wisp of fabric was draped between her thighs, cupping her sex, concealing what he so wanted to see. It immediately grew damp with her body’s arousal. Then she shifted again, and it fell away, revealing her in all her full, glistening glory.

  His heart nearly
exploded and his taste buds tingled in his mouth. “Enough…” he muttered, needing to touch her, taste her, drive her as crazy as she was him.

  She obviously disagreed. With a tiny groan of demand, she reached around his body. Stroking his hips and digging her nails into his ass, she tugged him close, then pushed him back. She set an unmistakable rhythm until he was making love to her mouth.

  That took him to the line of endurance and nearly sent him spiraling over it. So, though it took just about every ounce of strength he had, he gently stroked her cheeks and pulled away.

  She looked up at him with wet, swollen lips. “Why did you stop me?”

  “Because the night is young and we have a long way to go.”

  Smiling lethargically, she slid over to make room for him, her body gliding easily across the fabric. When he joined her on the bed, he suddenly understood why women liked such silky lingerie. The sensations battering his skin were incredibly pleasurable.

  But it wouldn’t be as soft as Jen’s body, he knew that.

  “Kiss me,” she pleaded, opening her arms for him.

  He certainly didn’t need to be asked twice. He bent to her, covering her mouth with his, their tongues immediately sliding out to tangle and mate. He tasted his own essence on her, and acknowledging just how thoroughly she’d consumed him made his cock lurch even harder against her stocking-covered thigh.

  “I like this,” he murmured when the kiss finally ended. Bending to her nape, he tasted his way across her shoulder until his teeth caught the strap of her gown.

  “I’m glad.”

  “I’ll like it better when it’s off you.”

  She moaned softly. “We’ll get there.”

  “Eventually,” he agreed, suddenly in no hurry to get to the end of the race. The journey was going to be much too delightful to rush through it.

  So he took his time. With tender strokes, gentle nips and hungry tastes, he explored her body. Starting at the top, he worked his way down, nudging her gown out of the way as he went. He left it over her breasts for a moment as he buried his face between them, breathing deeply into her cleavage.

  “Taste me,” she pleaded, arching toward his mouth, her nipple slipping free of its confinement to peek at him.

  Mouth watering, he went for it, suckling her and caressing her other breast with his hand until she was shaking so hard he thought she’d come right then and there. “You have incredibly sensitive breasts, don’t you?” he asked as he drew his mouth away to blow lightly on that beautifully puckered tip.

  “Everything about me is sensitive when your mouth is in the vicinity.”

  Wanting to prove that, Mike continued his exploration. He pushed the gown down, following it with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He nibbled her ribs, dipped his tongue into her belly button for a taste. Moving lower, he scraped his rough jaw against her pert clit until she shook. “Very sensitive,” he murmured before covering it with his lips and sampling it.

  Her silky, feather-soft gown was now down below her hips, its bodice caught around Jen’s thighs so she couldn’t move, couldn’t evade, couldn’t shift away. She could only lie there and give herself over to the pleasure as he focused on devouring the vulnerable flesh between her slightly parted legs. He loved the smooth feel of her, loved the intensity and the ease of access. Mostly he loved pleasuring her, taking her all the way to the top and letting her leap over it. It took almost no time at all for her to come, her helpless cries signaling her release before her hips rocked up as it overtook her. And he was back up, catching her mouth with his, before she’d even stopped moaning.

  As their kiss slowly ended, he stared into her glowing eyes, which reflected the golden light of the nearest candle. “You know, I really like this,” he whispered as he stroked the wet lips of her sex, readying her for his possession.

  “I can tell. You spend a lot of time down there.”

  Mike couldn’t prevent a slight laugh. “I meant I like the style. Your curls are pretty, but I admit it’s nice to be able to explore the rest of you so up close and personal.”

  She shuddered, rocking up as if she was coming again merely with his words. And the hunger to be inside her when she did this time overcame him. Shoving the gown the rest of the way down, he watched her kick it off, then grabbed a condom from a box on the bedside table. His hands nearly shook as he put it on. Jen watched his every move, nibbling her lip, her eyes wide with anticipation and excitement.

  They’d done so much in the past few days, but this was still so incredibly exciting. He imagined it would be so for the next fifty years, if they were to share them.

  He didn’t pause to dwell on that unbelievable thought. Longevity in a relationship wasn’t something he’d let himself think about in a long time. Then again, he hadn’t felt about a woman the way he felt about Jen. Ever. That she was all wrong for him—not his type, much too fierce, much too stubborn, and in the opinion of the whole world, a man-hater, he simply didn’t care.

  He was crazy about her. Head over heels.

  “Take me, Mike, fill me, please,” she groaned when he didn’t move between her legs fast enough.

  He immediately accepted the invitation—acceded to the demand—climbing over her, feeling her soft thighs slide around his hips in welcome. The silky stockings felt amazing against his naked skin, as he’d known they would. As he slid into her, sucked into her warmth and her tight heat, he groaned, all sensation focused low in his body now. She welcomed him, accommodated him, murmured sweet words in his ear.

  “Nothing has ever felt this good,” he admitted, knowing it was true. Physically, he’d never experienced anything that came close to the things he’d done with Jen.

  Emotionally? Well…maybe that, too.

  She tried to hurry him, taking what he was too slow to give, but Mike laughed softly, drawing out of her body, heightening the anticipation and the delight before plunging back to bury himself to the hilt. Over and over again. They went fast and slow, with him looking down at her, or her riding him. In silence and with sultry whispers and even sexy laughter. Until the candles began to burn down and Mike realized his body had reached the end of its endurance.

  “One more for you,” he muttered, knowing he couldn’t wait much longer. Reaching down to stroke her, he flicked his fingers across her sensitive flesh, matching each movement with his tongue in her mouth. As she began to quiver and quake, to spasm and gasp, he thrust hard, riding her the rest of the way, so that when she cried out her ultimate release, he joined her in it, groaning and shaking as well. Until, entirely spent, he collapsed into her arms and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  JENNIFER AWOKE DURING the night, tumbling out of sleep just as she’d tumbled in her strange dream. She’d been falling down a flight of stairs—never-ending, narrow stairs that had led straight down into darkness.

  She’d been a little girl at first, crying as she fell, begging her father to save her, to catch her. But before she’d hit the bottom, she’d realized she was an adult and the arms she’d begged to catch her belonged to Mike.

  She’d awakened before she’d found out whether he’d done it.

  The dream disturbed her, especially because she’d been sleeping so soundly, protectively curved in Mike’s casually possessive embrace, until then. She’d felt almost cherished, wrapped in his arms as if he didn’t want to let her go, not even in his sleep.

  Their naked limbs remained entwined, the remnants of her gown tangled around their feet, its softness caressing their calves. Her stockings had been thrown somewhere in the dark room…. Mike had actually tugged them down with his teeth.

  She got all flushed just thinking about it.

  Mike stirred and Jen went still, worried she’d disturbed him with her movements. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, she watched his face. A bit of moonlight spilling in from a slight part in the drapes sent a soft glow of light across him, spotlighting his strong jaw and providing contrast to the shadows in the hollows of his cheek.
His parted lips were incredibly sensual for a man, and she heard the nearly inaudible breaths passing over them in smooth, even regularity.

  He was the most perfect man she’d ever seen. And he was in her arms, in her bed, in her life.

  She just didn’t know for how long.

  “How could this happen?” she asked him, knowing she spoke only to herself. Because she could no longer deny what Ashley had pointed out earlier.

  She was in love with Mike.

  She still didn’t think they could make things work in the long run—eventually, he’d drive her crazy with his overprotectiveness and she’d drive him insane with her casual attitude about everything, including her own safety. She’d write more books that offended men everywhere and sooner or later they’d offend him. And he’d someday perhaps show up at a crime scene and see another vulnerable woman, one who needed him. One who’d let him take care of her, as he seemed to need to do.

  Though she would never say it, she had enough of a psychology background to suspect Mike’s need to protect and care for others stemmed from his childhood. When he’d been unable to protect his father from a war and his mother from a hideous disease. But she wasn’t the type to lie back and be protected—saved—dreams of falling down the stairs being the exception.

  Yes. She didn’t doubt the day would come when they’d realize all the problems they’d instantly anticipated in each other from the moment they’d met hadn’t disappeared simply because they’d grown to care about one another.

  “But for now…”

  For now, they were good. Very good. Happy—both emotionally, and oh, most definitely physically.

  Jen hadn’t known it was possible to feel so utterly fulfilled and satiated for so long. Nor that even a man in his prime, like Mike, could have been able to take her all over again an hour after they’d finished the first time.

  This time, they’d used the handcuffs.

  She might not be able to walk tomorrow, at least not with her legs anywhere in the vicinity of one another. Honestly, though, she didn’t give a damn.