Faithless Angel

by Kimberly Raye

  As hungry as he was, he seemed to delight in watching her. He touched her with his tongue again and licked her longer, more leisurely, savoring the ripeness of her. She gasped and clung and quivered.

  “Please,” she said, arching her back. “I need—”

  Before she could finish the desperate plea, his lips closed over her nipple and he sucked long and hard on the throbbing tip, the wet material of her shirt little protection against the searing heat of his mouth.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair, tilted her head back, and gave herself up to sensation. Cool rain sprinkled her face, but it wasn’t enough to quench the fire at her breast. The flames spread, burning over her skin until she felt ready to disintegrate.

  The pressure of his mouth increased, his tongue stroking her, his lips suckling. Each pull on her nipple sent an echoing thrum between her legs. She clutched at his shoulders, desperate for … more, less, anything to relieve the pressure building inside her.

  His hands held her steady, scorching her through the denim of her shorts, nestling her crotch against his belly.

  Then he moved her, a lazy brush of her sex up and down the muscled ridges of his abdomen, and the pressure reached maximum intensity. A gasp tumbled from her lips and she came apart in his arms, reeling with the force of her climax. She collapsed against him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He was so warm, so strong, so …

  The realization of what had just happened hit her like a two-by-four. She blinked. Had she really … ? And they hadn’t even … Yet she’d … And he hadn’t even touched her there…. Not directly, anyway, and …

  She closed her eyes, buried her face in his neck, and then she started to cry.

  “Shhh,” he said, stroking her rain-slick skin, his palm warm and comforting. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. Not with me. Not ever.”

  “But you didn’t,” she mumbled into his neck. “And I shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s all right,” he murmured.

  “I—I’m sorry,” she went on. “It’s just been a long time since anyone has”—she swallowed—“touched me like that.” Try never, she added silently.

  I’m glad…. His deep voice rumbled through her mind, which was odd considering his mouth was pressed to her hair, his lips unmoving.

  Obviously not. She’d heard the words. Clear, distinct, unmistakable—

  “The rain’s stopped,” he said, killing her thoughts. He eased her down his body and they stared up into the still-sunny sky.

  “You’re all wet.” She pushed a strand of hair back from his jaw. Despite their moment of shared intimacy, she felt awkward. Unsure. If only he would say something.

  “I really should get back.” His words were short, clipped, a direct contrast to the raw need making his dark eyes shimmer like liquid onyx, and the bulge straining beneath the front of his jeans.

  Guilt ebbed through her. He’d given her so much and she’d left him huge and hurting.

  “Why don’t you come inside for a little while? I could toss your shirt into the dryer.”

  He was silent for a long moment and she saw the inner battle in his eyes. For some reason, he fought the need bunching his muscles tight, raged against the idea of going inside with her, inside her.

  “I have to go.” His gaze shuttered and there was no more conflict in him. Just steely resolve. “Bradley’s probably waiting for me.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Please, she added silently. Her cheeks burned. The sun, she tried to tell herself, but she knew better.

  “Tomorrow,” he promised, his eyes softening just a hint, and an odd sense of relief swept through her.

  Then he turned and walked away, and the relief gave way to the hard press of loneliness that had become her permanent companion the past week, since Jesse Savage had walked into her life, and out. Day after day.

  Only today was worse.

  At least she’d had the rain, she told herself. The roar of his motorcycle faded into a distant drone until she heard nothing except the buzz of insects and the whispering quiet of freshly watered grass baking in the sun.

  And so she didn’t have to worry over the cause for all the wetness on her cheeks. It was rainwater, because Faith Jansen wouldn’t cry over anyone. She wouldn’t let herself care that much.

  Never again.

  It was happening Jesse thought.

  His lust was overriding his common sense. But hell, she’d climaxed right there in his arms, with no more than the touch of him. And she’d been fully clothed.

  He tightened his grip on the motorcycle and took a sharp right at the next intersection. The bike rumbled beneath him, vibrating the muscles of his thighs as he sped forward.

  The air lashed at him, but the smell of roses and rainwater and hungry female—her—stayed with him, filling his senses. Just as the sound of her—soft pants and delicious moans—haunted him, drowning out everything, the honk of a car horn, the whir of traffic, the skid of brakes as he roared through the city, desperate for some air. Some distance.

  He had a mission to fulfill, and sliding fast and deep between Faith’s thighs wasn’t part of the deal. If only he could remember that whenever he was near her. He tried. Heaven knew, he tried. But in the face of her desire, he seemed powerless to resist. She wanted him. Badly. That fact coupled with the bald truth that Jesse—the flesh-and-blood man—needed a woman. He was, after all, only human right now, with weaknesses. Needs.

  Human, he reminded himself.

  But while he might be flesh and blood, there was a spirit inside the man. A light. A miracle waiting to happen.

  The trouble was, whenever he was with Faith, he forgot his situation. She made him think like a man. Want like a man. Feel like a man.

  Dammit!

  He rode long and hard, until he wound up outside the city limits, on a nearly deserted highway surrounded by rolling fields. Only the occasional passing of a car penetrated the serenity of the place. It was nature at its simplest. A place where nothing grew but wildflowers and silence.

  Jesse turned off onto a dirt road and followed a winding path farther away from the road and civilization, until flat, motionless fields surrounded him in every direction. Then he parked his motorcycle and started walking.

  He walked until the high afternoon sun beat down on him and the humid air robbed the breath from his lungs. He finally sank to his knees and bowed his head. He was hot. Tired. Desperate.

  If only he didn’t want her so badly.

  “I can’t do this. I—we’re too closely linked. It’s killing me,” he cried, staring up at the sky, into the blinding sun and beyond. Into a more brilliant, soothing light.

  Focus, Jesse, came the clear voice. Not a single voice really, but a symphony of melodic sounds joined together as one. The light. Keep your mind on the future.

  But even as the reassuring words rang in his head, he felt little comfort. Only an angry tightening inside him, pushing and pulling at his control.

  Think about the mission. About eternity.

  Easier said than done, he thought as he walked to his motorcycle and headed back to Houston. He was already hours late for his afternoon shift at Faith’s House. He needed to think about the kids, about what excuse he was going to give Bradley for being late.

  The trouble was, he couldn’t think right now. He just felt the excruciating heat in his groin, the rush of blood through his veins, the rapid beating of his heart, and the overwhelming need to be inside her.

  He entered the city limits just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Exhaust fumes burned his nostrils, and the chaos of the city beat at his ears, yet Jesse wasn’t aware of any of it.

  He knew only the fresh smell of roses and rainwater teasing his nostrils, the soft sigh of a woman whispering through his senses, testing his determination and worrying his resolve.

  Bedding her could only end in disaster. He was leaving when everything was said and done. He had an eternity waiting for him, and Faith didn’t figure in.
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  His head knew that. Now if he could only get the message through to his body, and his heart.

  True to his word, Jesse returned the next day, but things were different. Gone was the easy rapport they’d shared for the past few days. When she handed him a glass of iced tea, he didn’t motion her down beside him on the porch steps. Instead he gulped the drink and returned to trimming her overgrown hedges near the back fence, while Faith once again tended her rosebushes.

  She threw herself into her work, yet she was always acutely aware of his presence. Her nerves were on edge, her mind regretting those few shared moments in the rain, while her body longed for a deeper contact.

  She was crazy to want a man who obviously didn’t want her.

  Then again, she didn’t really believe his indifference. Maybe if she did, it would be much easier to ignore him and dismiss her own feelings. But while he worked savagely at the bushes, he was as aware of her as she was of him. She’d glimpsed his gaze a time or two, the heat sparking his dark eyes before he turned away.

  The silent treatment lasted for several hours, until he’d finished trimming and was about to leave.

  “Ricky asked Emily to the community dance day after tomorrow.”

  “You’re kidding.” She smiled, feeling her tension ease for the first time that afternoon. “When did he do it? How did he do it? What did she say?”

  He grinned. “He did it last night while she was tutoring him in math, and he just came out and asked her, very polite and direct. He complimented her shirt and her hair, then popped the question.”

  “Ricky? My Ricky?” She shook her head. “The last nice thing he said to her was that she had a big brain, and she didn’t consider that quite the compliment he’d intended.”

  “He’s been practicing.”

  “And I bet I know who’s been teaching him.” She eyed Jesse for a long moment. “He’s really taken to you, hasn’t he?”

  Jesse shrugged. “He’s a good kid. They all are.”

  “Yes.” She sighed, staring down at the tips of her worn tennis shoes.

  “You should have seen him. He was so nervous, he actually put his shirt on inside out before he came downstairs.”

  “I wish I’d been there.”

  “Do you?” With a tender hand beneath her chin, he drew her gaze up to meet his. “It’s not too late. You told me so yourself. The kids miss you, Faith. They ask about you every day.”

  “I …” She pulled free and looked away. “I’m really glad for Em.” A moment of silence passed before she met his eyes again. “Tell her that for me, okay?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather tell her yourself?”

  She shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “A guy has to try.” Then he walked away from her.

  Faith stifled the familiar ache that shot through her and picked up her gardening tools. It was going to be another long night, especially since Faith had more than just Jesse to think about.

  Ricky and Emily going on an official date …

  And she was going to miss it.

  By choice, she reminded herself.

  But at that moment, missing the shine in Emily’s eyes as she put on her best outfit, and the way Ricky puffed out his chest to make himself stand taller, made her regret her decision.

  Maybe she could just drop by the house tomorrow night, just to say hello and catch a quick peek at the kids—

  No. That would only make walking away harder, on herself and the kids. It was better for everyone if she just stayed away. No risk. No attachment. Distance was easier.

  If only it weren’t so lonely.

  Chapter Eight

  That evening, Faith sat outside on the back porch and watched the sun fade over the top of the garage. Laughter floated on the wind, along with the excited sounds of kids playing. The voices made her feel a little less lonely, and so she sat there until all light faded and darkness forced her to go inside.

  Otherwise, her nightly ritual was the same. She ate dinner with the TV blaring, then busied herself doing some chore or another until she collapsed from exhaustion. Nearly a week had passed since she’d started to come back to the land of the living, and she’d scrubbed every room in the house.

  All except for one.

  Each day she went a little closer to Jane’s room. The girl hadn’t actually lived with Faith, but her things had been transferred to Faith’s spare bedroom to make room for another child at the foster home. The door had been closed for the past three weeks since the funeral, until last night.

  A handspan of space filled her peripheral vision as she sat cross-legged on the living room floor and alphabetized what was left of her CD collection. When that was done, she played ball with Grubby, tossing the red nylon ball toward the hallway, toward the door.

  The little dog wagged his tail and wiggled after the ball. His excited body thumped against the wood, and the door creaked open an inch more.

  Not yet, she told herself, forcing her attention elsewhere. She retrieved a can of disinfectant and attacked the baseboards in her living room, a time-consuming chore that taxed her muscles and drained her mind.

  Three hours later, well past midnight, she crawled into bed, too tired to think or dream, or so she thought.

  Faith … The voice called to her from somewhere deep inside herself. But it wasn’t her own voice. It was Jesse’s. The deep timbre rumbled through her body, sending a wave of tremors washing over her senses.

  I need you, Faith. You’re my only way out. You have to help me. You have to believe again.

  She railed against the thought even through the haziness of sleep. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t….

  I know you’re afraid, but you don’t have to be. Not anymore. You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone. I’m here, Faith. I’m here—

  Her eyes snapped open to the darkness of the bedroom. She jerked upright, her heart pounding furiously, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Tears, when she’d been certain they’d all dried up by now.

  The wetness trickled down her face, her neck, and Jesse’s voice echoed in her head.

  You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m here….

  She threw back the covers and padded down the hallway to Jane’s room. The door creaked open and she flipped on the light. Stacks of boxes filled the corners. Stuffed animals littered the bed, along with piles of clothes still on the hangers. So much stuff, even though the girl had only been at Faith’s House a little under a year.

  Faith scooted some of the things aside and settled herself on the mattress. She touched the soft fur of a hot pink teddy bear—a Valentine’s present to Jane from Ricky—and a smile pulled at her lips. She stroked the furry head for a few seconds before reaching for the nearest box. Her fingers trembled and paused. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe—

  I’m here, came the deep, soothing voice. I’m here.

  She pulled back the cardboard flaps. With a rush of tears and a silent prayer for strength, she went to work.

  Bam, bam, bam. The pounding on the front door drew Faith’s attention. She glanced up from the last box she’d been sifting through and stared past the bedroom doorway into the living room. She blinked.

  Morning sunlight pushed through the slats in the blinds, showering the living room with brilliant white bars of light. Geez, she’d been at it for hours, she realized with a quick look at the nightstand clock.

  “What’s wrong?” Jesse’s all-seeing eyes swept her from head to toe the moment she hauled open the front door.

  “Nothing,” she murmured, and realized the statement rang true. There was nothing wrong. She’d made it through each box, faced the contents and the memories, and here she was, alive and breathing. She smiled. “Absolutely nothing.”

  His gaze swept her again, lingering on her face. Finally he grinned. “You look awfully pleased with yourself. What have you been up to?”

  “My ears in boxes.” She motioned behind he
r to the stack of cardboard spilling out of the bedroom into the hallway. “A few are filled with clothes. I thought I’d send those to the girls at Faith’s House. The rest are going to Mrs. Moses at the mission. She’s sending somebody to pick them up.”

  “If it’s only a box or two, I can take the stuff for Faith’s House after I finish with that ceiling fan you mentioned. The kitchen, you said?”

  She nodded. “Thanks, Jesse.”

  “Thanks for fixing the fan, or taking the boxes?”

  “Both.” And last night, she added silently.

  He smiled then, a slow sweep of his sensuous lips that lit up the room brighter than the sunlight. “My pleasure,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen.

  Jesse tested the ceiling fan switch while Faith put a pot of coffee on to brew. Then she sank down into a kitchen chair, heedless that she was wearing nothing but an oversize T-shirt and white socks, and rested her head on her arms. Tired. Relieved.

  “Did you sleep at all last night?”

  “Not much,” she murmured. Her eyes drifted shut, her ears tuned to the steady sound of Jesse’s breathing, the thump-thump of his heart. No, that had to be her own heart, because he was standing clear across the room.

  “Try not at all,” he said somewhere in the vicinity of her left ear, and she realized he was very close.

  Strong arms closed around her and she felt herself being lifted, carried. She wanted to snake her arms around his neck, pull him closer, lose herself in the heat of his eyes, his mouth. But she was too tired; the security was too lulling. She did little more than sigh as he tucked her into bed. The blankets closed around her and sleep claimed her completely.

  Faith had never slept better in her entire life.

  She opened her eyes just as afternoon shadows started to creep across the bedroom. Her gaze lingered on the jewelry box sitting in the middle of her dresser. One down, one to go, she thought. But not now. She felt too good, too purged.

  She yawned, stretched, and padded to Jane’s room. The boxes were gone, the room clean. Obviously Jesse had seen to everything while she’d been asleep.