A D'Angelo Like No Other

by Carole Mortimer

  Had to know.

  To taste...

  Michael looked down at her between narrowed lids as he sat up on his knees once again before releasing the button on Eva’s denims and slowly sliding the zip downwards, allowing her the opportunity to stop him if she wanted to; he had never forced himself on a woman in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. No matter how much he might want, ache, to taste Eva.

  Thankfully, she made no move to stop him, not when he shifted to one side to take off her shoes before peeling her jeans down her thighs and removing them completely, nor when he hooked his fingers into her tiny black silk panties and they met the same fate. Instead she closed her eyes completely, her hands falling to the bedcovers beside her as Michael once again knelt between her legs, allowing him to look his fill between her parted thighs.

  Her curls here were as ebony as the hair on her head. Silky soft and slightly damp curls that revealed her mound and the glistening and swollen lips beneath.

  ‘Beautiful...’ he groaned huskily as he parted her legs even wider before slowly moving to lie between her thighs and lowering his head.

  Eva groaned just at the feel of the warm heat of Michael’s breath against her sensitivity, that groan turning to a soft keening, her hands moving up instinctively to become entangled in the dark thickness of his hair at the first hot sweep of his moist tongue.

  She lost all sense of where she was, who she was, as that plundering tongue continued to lathe hot and rhythmically, endlessly, hard and then soft, circling and then pressing, and almost, but not quite, taking her over the edge into the maelstrom of release.

  ‘No...!’ she groaned in protest as Michael raised his head, only to groan anew as he moved lower and she felt his fingers moving to caress, to stroke her most sensitive spot, as the moist length of his tongue probed, and then pierced through the throbbing lips at the entrance to her sheath, before plunging hotly, deeply inside. Taking her, possessing her as his other hand moved up to her breast, capturing, caressing, gently squeezing the fullness of her nipple between finger and thumb in the same rhythm as his thrusting tongue and stroking fingers.

  Eva’s hips arched up off the bed as she once again felt the hot sweep of Michael’s tongue against her pulsing core, even as his fingers parted her swollen folds before thrusting inside, first one, and then two, stretching those quivering muscles, fingers curling slightly as he sought, and found that place deep inside her to stroke with each thrust of his fingers.

  Eva’s hips continued to arch up, again and again, as she met each and every one of those thrusts, until she cried out, sobbed, her fingers tightly clasping the coverlet as the fierceness of her orgasm surged through her whole body in hot and burning release, threatening to tear her apart with its ferocity. Tears burned down Eva’s cheeks as wave after never-ending wave of pleasure took her beyond anything she had ever known before.

  As Michael took her beyond any other pleasure she had ever known before...

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘DID I HURT you?’ Michael frowned his concern as he moved up the bed to lie beside Eva, fingers gentle as he touched the tear-wet cheeks beneath the dark sweep of her lashes.

  Her eyelids remained closed. ‘No.’

  ‘Then what—Eva...?’ he prompted sharply as she turned her head away from him. Damn it, he hadn’t meant things to go this far—had never intended— ‘Eva, speak to me, damn it!’ he pressed worriedly as he smoothed the tangle of dark hair back from the dampness of her brow.

  ‘And say what?’ she prompted bitterly. ‘I came to Paris because I believe your brother seduced my sister, and now—’

  ‘Now I’ve seduced you,’ Michael realised heavily.

  ‘Hardly!’ Eva scorned. ‘I was there too, Michael. Oh, God, I was there too...!’ More tears escaped her lids and fell down her pale cheeks.

  ‘Eva, look at me, damn it!’

  She raised her lids slowly, those violet-coloured eyes appearing bruised and slightly haunted as she looked up at him. ‘What did we just do?’ She groaned. ‘What did I just do?’ She gave an agonised moan before turning away from him again and curling up into a huddled and defensive ball.

  She looked so small and fragile, lying naked on her side with her back turned towards him. Michael could see the vulnerability of her hunched shoulders, the ridges along her slender spine, the gentle curve of her bottom.

  ‘I’ve only known you a matter of days!’ she continued to berate herself disgustedly. ‘I don’t really know you at all!’

  ‘You know me, Eva,’ Michael contradicted gruffly, knowing that it was true. Eva did know him, better than most people did or ever would.

  It might have been only days since they first met, but they had been days when Michael knew he had revealed more of himself to Eva than he had to anyone for a very long time. If ever.

  Just as he now knew Eva in that same deep and penetrating way...

  And not just on a physical level.

  He had come to like, not just to desire Eva these past few days, and discovering she was E J Foster, the photographer of ‘Harmony’, had ensured he had even further insight into exactly who and what Eva Foster was.

  She was a woman who felt things deeply. A woman who was honest with herself to the point that she exposed the rawness of her emotions in a way Michael had never been able to do. Or, at least, not for many years.

  And, it was that realisation, the honesty and rawness of Eva’s emotions, that confirmed the complete nonsense of Michael’s initial accusations to her. Much as he did not wish it to be true, he knew that Eva did truly believe that Rafe was the father of her sister’s babies.

  Just as the honesty of her emotions just now had allowed her to give herself over to him so completely...

  Michael could still taste her nectar on his lips as he slowly ran his tongue across them. Just as he could still feel the velvet softness of her skin beneath his hands, and the way she had come alive beneath his caresses, as she made no attempt to hide her responses to him.

  Just looking at her now, her skin a pale unblemished ivory in the dim lighting, her hair ebony silk, Michael knew he wanted to touch and taste her like that again!

  ‘Eva—’

  ‘Don’t touch me again,’ she warned tautly as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He had no need to remove that hand as she scooted across the bed away from him. ‘I can’t believe I’m lying here stark naked and you’re still fully dressed!’ she added with self-loathing.

  ‘What does that matter...?’ Michael’s hand dropped to his side as he fell onto his back against the pillows, watching regretfully between narrowed lids as Eva quickly pulled on her T-shirt, panties and jeans to cover that nakedness before standing up.

  ‘It matters because—’ Her hair was a silky tangle about her shoulders, her eyes dark and haunted as she looked across the bed at him. ‘You didn’t— It was selfish of me to take and not give—’

  ‘Have I said that concerns me?’ Michael rasped harshly. No doubt he would pay for that lack of physical release after Eva had left him, but for the moment he was content in having given her pleasure, in having enjoyed her pleasure.

  ‘No...’ She gave a dismissive shake of her head as she avoided meeting his gaze before straightening her shoulders determinedly.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel— It’s far too late to move the twins tonight but tomorrow I’ll find somewhere else for us all to stay.’

  His jaw tightened. ‘No.’

  Eva’s gaze flickered in his direction before quickly moving away again, her cheeks very pale and luminescent in the dimmed lighting. ‘What do you mean no...?’ she prompted warily.

  ‘Exactly what I said,’ Michael bit out grimly as he swung his own legs to the floor before standing up. ‘What happened between us tonight—’

  ‘Was a mi
stake,’ she finished tautly, her chin held defensively high as she still refused to look him in the eye. ‘You and I both know that,’ she added miserably.

  Michael wasn’t yet sure what tonight was, needed time—and solitude—in which to decide that for himself.

  And the repercussions it might have, if any, on what was already a delicate situation...

  He did know he didn’t like hearing Eva describe it as having been a mistake! ‘Let’s just both sleep on it, hmm, and then talk again in the morning?’ he prompted gruffly.

  Eva didn’t want to sleep on anything; she wanted to leave this apartment—and Michael—right now. Except she couldn’t. Because, for once, the twins were both sleeping peacefully in their cots, and there was no way she was going to disturb them by moving them out of the apartment tonight. After all, where would she go?

  How could she have allowed this to happen? Why had it happened?

  Oh, she had known from the beginning that she found Michael broodingly attractive, that physically he affected her more deeply than any other man she had ever known, but she hadn’t realised it was to the extent—to a degree that—

  Eva would have laughed scornfully if someone had told her that she and Michael D’Angelo would ever have ended up making love together!

  Or, to be more accurate, that Michael would make love to her...

  How awkward was that? How embarrassing was that?

  Eva wanted to curl up in a mortified ball—again!—just thinking of Michael’s lips and hands on her, of the intimacy of having his lips and hands on her, in her...!

  And, much as she tried to avoid admitting it, Eva knew exactly why it had happened.

  Eating dinner together these past few evenings, talking together about everything and nothing, had been more relaxing than she could ever have imagined, but it had been looking at the painting and her photograph, both hanging on Michael’s bedroom wall, that had pushed their third evening together over into intimacy.

  Because in that moment Eva had seen Michael for exactly who and what he was. And that who and what he was really wasn’t, as she had already suspected it might not be, the coolly remote man he chose to present to the public.

  Oh, she might not know the reasons for the veneer Michael had erected on top of his emotions, or when he had done so, but his obvious attachment, to both the painting of the dying rose and her African photograph, had confirmed that it really was the veneer she had suspected it might be.

  And behind that veneer were deep and complicated emotions. Emotions that this evening had touched some echoing depth inside Eva, and it was a connection she ultimately hadn’t been able to deny. So much so that she’d had no thought of denial when the two of them began to make love.

  And the bitter aftermath of that connection was these feelings of disgust at herself and humiliation...

  She knew what Rachel, with her complete joy of life, would have said—and that would have been, Go for it, sis. And Eva had certainly gone for it. Had she ever! Her body still quivered and quaked in the aftermath of the first orgasm she’d ever experienced. An orgasm that had left her with a lingering hunger for more.

  An impossible hunger, when Eva considered her reason for being in Paris in the first place.

  Her chin rose. ‘I really think it would be for the best if the twins and I were to move out—’

  ‘No,’ Michael repeated grimly.

  She shot him an irritated frown. ‘I don’t think that’s for you to decide—’

  ‘On the contrary.’ Michael straightened determinedly. ‘If those two babies are, as you claim, my niece and nephew, then they, and you, will remain here under my protection until I am able to speak to Rafe.’

  She arched challenging brows. ‘And who’s going to protect me from you?’

  Michael’s jaw tightened. He didn’t appreciate the comment, but knew it was deserved, nonetheless. Who was going to protect Eva from him?

  Or him from Eva...?

  Because Michael had no doubt that if they continued to stay in this apartment together what had happened tonight would almost certainly happen again...

  The answering throb in his still engorged shaft, when he was just thinking about making love with Eva again, was confirmation of that!

  ‘Aren’t you overestimating your own attraction?’ Michael’s tone was deliberately scathing as he looked her coldly up and down. But he wished he could take that coldness back as soon as he saw her flinch, and caught the way the shadows darkened beneath those beautiful violet-coloured eyes. However, putting some distance between the two of them, verbally at least, was what he needed to do for now. For both their sakes.

  Her mouth tightened. ‘Am I?’

  ‘I believe so, yes,’ he drawled dismissively. ‘Tonight was an...interesting diversion, no doubt brought about by close proximity, but I doubt it will ever be repeated. Now, if you wouldn’t mind leaving my bedroom...?’ He turned away abruptly. ‘Some of us have to go to work in the morning.’

  Eva hadn’t thought she could feel any more humiliated than she already did, but Michael’s cold dismissal of her now proved that she could. And did.

  Michael was behaving as if the past half an hour had never happened, was nothing at all like the passionate lover who had so generously gifted her with that incredible, earth-shattering orgasm. And it had been a gift, a totally unselfish one.

  Just as Michael was now using his fall-back indifference as a defence in his cold dismissal of her...

  ‘Fine,’ Eva snapped just as coldly. ‘As you say, we’ll talk again in the morning. And tomorrow the twins and I will be moving elsewhere until our flight back to England—’

  ‘I’ve already cancelled your original flight,’ Michael informed her arrogantly.

  ‘You’ve done what?’ Eva’s hands curled into fists at her sides.

  He gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘I told you that I would.’

  ‘Yes, but— I can’t believe— You overbearing, arrogant ass—’

  ‘Language, Eva,’ he drawled mockingly.

  ‘—hat,’ she finished scathingly. ‘How dare you just—? Well, you can just rebook it,’ she instructed furiously.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he came back mildly.

  ‘Then I will,’ she assured forcefully.

  ‘You can try, I suppose,’ he nodded unconcernedly. ‘But when I spoke to the woman on the booking desk she thanked me for letting her know so promptly, as they have a long waiting list on that flight. So I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to get back on that flight, at least.’ He looked across at Eva challengingly.

  The shortness of Eva’s fingernails now dug into the palms of her hands as she clenched them even more tightly. ‘You really are an arrogant bast—’

  ‘For the twins’ sake I really would suggest you try to curb the tenure of your language,’ Michael bit out distantly. ‘Also, I believe that children, babies in particular, are very sensitive to the moods of the adults around them, and behave accordingly...?’

  Eva had learnt that to her cost over the past three months; if she was in a cranky mood, through lack of sleep or whatever, then the twins tended to pick up on that mood and started to misbehave themselves. And trust the arrogant Michael, who admitted to having no more experience with babies than she had until three months ago, to know that!

  Eva wasn’t sure that she didn’t actually hate him at that moment. She certainly disliked him. Intensely. ‘Then I advise you to stay away from me for the rest of our stay here,’ she warned fiercely before turning sharply on her heel and leaving the bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind her as she headed for her bedroom that adjoined that of the twins.

  Any clearing up still left to do in the kitchen Michael could deal with himself, because Eva had had more than enough of him for one evening!

  * * *
/>
  ‘Have a croissant, Eva.’ Michael held the basket of pastries out to her enticingly as they sat in the dining room eating breakfast. The twins were strapped in the two high chairs he’d had delivered to the apartment the first morning of Eva’s stay here, when it had become obvious they were needed, along with a playpen. ‘I went out, as usual, this morning to buy them,’ he encouraged dryly, having accepted a couple of days ago that his morning routine of strolling out to enjoy a leisurely breakfast at his favourite cafe would have to be put on hold for the duration of Eva and the twins’ stay with him. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t still enjoy the café’s delicious croissants, even if he had to go out each morning and buy them!

  Breakfast with two six-month-old babies was certainly an experience, as usual half their fruit purée and oats having landed down them rather than in their mouths, as had the milk they were drinking from lidded and spouted cups. They were now gumming their toast more than chewing it with the four teeth they displayed so proudly every time they smiled. Which was often. Enchantingly so.

  Michael had quickly learnt not to dress in his suit for work until after breakfast, but instead wore the faded denims from last night and a white T-shirt—currently decorated with some of the twins’ breakfast!

  But they certainly were a cute pair of babies, Michael allowed ruefully as he politely refused the piece of soggy toast Sophie now offered him.

  Their enthusiastically noisy presence also had the added benefit of masking some of the tension that so obviously existed between Eva and Michael this morning.

  As expected Michael hadn’t slept well, as he first attempted to drive away his still raging erection, an exercise in will power that certainly wasn’t helped by the fact that he knew Eva was in another bedroom just that short distance down the hallway.

  Another cold shower had helped a little, even if it hadn’t succeeded in dispelling that desire for her completely. That had only been achieved when Michael mulled over how best to continue this living arrangement with Eva.

  His surprise in realising she was E J Foster, to the extent he had taken her to see her photograph hanging on his bedroom wall, along with Bryn’s painting, had meant he had now revealed far too much of his inner self to Eva.