by J. R. Ward
“No.” He smiled a little, but then grew serious—like he was remembering why she’d needed a change of clothes. “Don’t think about the boathouse,” she told him. “Not right now.”
After all, two could play at the shut-it game.
“How can I not,” he said darkly. And yet he leaned down and kissed her, hovering above her body, his hands going to the tie that kept the two halves of the coat together—
“You’re naked under this?” he breathed.
“As a jaybird.”
He eased back a little. “I can’t decide whether that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard…”
“Or?”
“Or if I want to kill any other man who saw you in this.”
“I’m not showing anything.”
“Not the point.”
The possessiveness in that deep voice had her smiling—especially as he parted the coat and ran his big hands down her body. His mouth followed next, his lips soft, his teeth sharp as they nipped gently, lingering on each one of her breasts until her nipples were tight and peaked.
She stopped him before he got too far. “I’d love a shower—want to join me?”
From under heavy lids, his eyes glowed. “I think we’re doing just fine.”
“Come with me.”
As she sat up, he rolled to the side. “How about I watch?”
“If that’s what you want.”
The growl that came at her was a big, fat yes, ma’am if she’d ever heard one—and far be it from her not to start the show early: As she got off the bed naked, she deliberately stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, her breasts heavy and taut.
Especially as she cupped them both, and thumbed the tips.
“God…damn,” he groaned.
Mels took her own sweet time walking around the end of the bed, letting him look at her body as her hands went to her hips and then her butt. There was such freedom in the privacy, and the way the light from the desk hit her from the side, and how his hot stare followed her every move.
“You coming with me?” she asked.
“Yeah…” He went to sit up, but then frowned, looking down at himself in confusion. “Ah…yeah.”
“You can keep your clothes on,” she said gently, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. “And there’s plenty of room in the bath.”
He shook his head like he was clearing it. “Yeah.” He laughed awkwardly. “By the way, that appears to be the extent of my vocabulary at the moment.”
Flashing him her backside again, she heard the rustling of him getting off the bed, and then his warm palms were on her waist and he pulled her against him. Kissing her shoulder, his hands moved around and palmed her breasts, lifting them, caressing them.
“Mels…God, you feel good.” He nuzzled her nape and went behind her ear. “You’re…”
“Wouldn’t you like to see how talented I can be with a bar of soap?”
“Oh, fuck.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
Inside the loo, she leaned in and started the shower while Matthias put the toilet seat down and lowered himself onto it, rubbing his jaw like he was hungry and looking forward to a meal.
“You’ll be leaving that open, of course,” he said.
“The curtain?”
“Yeah.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’m going to rip it down off that rod.”
She pushed the thing out of the way. “Well, we can’t have you wrecking the place.”
Mels stepped under the warm spray and went into another arch, putting the front of her body into the water. Then she turned and soaked her hair, letting her head fall back on her spine, the rush from above feeling like hands all over her.
His hands.
The soap was one that the hotel provided, a little bar that had been worn down by his use—and as she wet it, she smelled ginger, the humid air carrying the fragrance upward into her nose.
So slippery.
Across her neck and to her breasts, then farther, to her belly and over her hips…she went everywhere with the soap, the suds covering her skin before sliding downward in delicious trails—some of which went between her thighs.
Matthias was frozen where he sat, his eyes all over her, as if there were too much for him to look at—
For a moment, she lost her rhythm, that mystery of the healing returning to her…but then he spoke up.
“Do you need some help with your back?”
The rasping sound of his voice refocused her. “Patience.”
“Don’t have any.”
“Learn some.” As he cursed, vile and low, she smiled at him and leaned down to her legs, letting her breasts hang slick and full. “It’s good for the soul.”
“So are you. And for godsakes—don’t stop, ever.”
Happy to comply, she was slow and careful with her ankle and her calf, her nipples swaying back and forth, brushing the top of her thigh as she worked—
“Let me take over from here.” He leaned forward and snagged the soap. “Oh, sweet Jesus…I have to touch you.”
She was not going to deny him. Anything.
He wet his hands in the waterfall that had formed off the side of her hip; then he was on her flesh, the silky suds magnifying the contact as he swept up the back of her leg and lingered so close to her core…before attending to her inner thigh, stroking, plying, getting her hot in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the shower or the air in the room.
Mels closed her eyes.
She was at once in her flesh and flying free of it, grounded on the tile and soaring in the air, stretched between the extremes of wanting this delicious torture to last forever…and being desperate to get to the release that was even now threatening to bring her to her knees.
“Give me your other leg.”
Opening her lids, Mels put her hand on his shoulder to balance herself and lifted her opposite foot.
All she could think about was his head between her thighs.
“You’re getting wet,” she said roughly.
His burning eyes lifted to hers. “I hope that makes two of us.” As she nodded, he laughed in the back of his throat. “Say it for me.”
“Say what.”
“How wet you are, right here…” His hand swept to her core, his long fingers slipping into the heat, rubbing just enough to have her crying out—before easing free. “Say it.”
He picked that moment to open his mouth and slide what had touched her in between his lips, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked, a sound of approval resonating in his chest.
“Say it,” he commanded.
Mels could only moan something relatively close to, “I’m so wet….”
His smile was all bad boy with fantastically dirty intentions. “You going to wash your hair for me?”
He stared at her breasts as he spoke, like he was picturing them moving back and forth as she worked her arms over her head.
Roger. That. And then hopefully they could go back to other things…
It was the work of a moment to grab the little bottle. The cap was already off, and as she poured the shampoo into her palm, the stuff was honey-thick and golden yellow in color.
Matthias’s eyes stuck to her breasts as she reached up to the crown of her head. Sure enough, the back-and-forth motion was carried to what he was so captivated by, and she knew she was getting to him by the way he stroked her leg from ankle to thigh, going a little higher with every pass.
Until he was where she wanted him to be.
As his slick fingers touched her sex again, she jerked in pleasure—and that was good timing for the rinse part. With the water carrying the shampoo out of her hair, he teased and probed, the friction taking her to the brink.
“I want to see you come,” he ordered.
No problem. The sound of his voice coupled with the way he penetrated her was more than enough to pitch her headlong into a massive orgasm, her palm slapping against the wet tile
as the tension snapped in her core and the sensation rippled throughout her body.
Something came out of her mouth…his name, yes, that was it—and she said it twice.
The water was shut off as she was recovering, and a towel wrapped around her.
“You clean enough for your standards?” he said as he lifted her out.
She was pretty sure her reply was “yes”—it was certainly the word in her mind. God only knew what she spoke—
With a surge of demand, Matthias pressed his mouth to hers and licked his way inside as he rubbed her with the soft terry cloth. And then he was carrying her back to the bed.
As he laid her out, she thought he was going to kiss her again, and closed her eyes while lifting her chin.
He did kiss her. Just not on the mouth.
He went right to the center of her, parting her thighs wide, latching onto her sex, sucking her in. The sensation of wet on wet sent her over the edge again, her body racked with an orgasm that was only part release.
The other half was just another crap load of want.
Down at the boathouse on the river’s edge, Devina could feel the heat rolling off the angel who was facing off in front of her—and goodness, gracious sakes a-fuckin’-live, that burn wasn’t just anger.
He wanted her.
And even better than that, he hated himself for it: He utterly despised the arousal that was making a circus tent out of the front of those God-awful sweatpants he was wearing.
The combination was better than absinthe and oysters, an aphrodisiac that nearly made a demon forget that he’d double-crossed her in the last round.
Not quite, though. She could still hear him saying those words.
I lied.
And what do you know, on her side as well, fury slammed headfirst into love, the two extremes magnifying each other.
Jim’s voice came out in an incredible growl, the tone low and mean, rippling with the power in his body. “I want you to cut the shit, Devina.”
“What exactly are you referring to, Jim.” She let the purr loose in her voice, because it was there—and it would piss him off.
The fact that she was getting turned on too was going to be another slap in the balls to him.
God, who knew they’d have a date tonight of all nights? She’d have spent more time on her hair.
“I want you to leave that reporter alone.”
“Which reporter? Brian Williams? Diane Sawyer? Or someone in print, perhaps?”
Jim’s hand flashed out and grabbed a hunk of her hair, yanking it so hard she nearly came then and there.
Leaning in, he looked like he was going to bite her. “Funny, I didn’t think your methods were working for you.”
“That first win with Matthias is still mine,” she spat, her head cranked to the side.
“No soul to keep, though, huh.”
“A small price to pay to win the war.”
“That where you think you’re headed?” He closed in, bending her even harder. “’Cuz it’s not how I see things going.”
They were both straining, their faces together, their bodies curled in tight. And all around them it was quiet—not just because it was dark outside. He had a spell in place—even in his anger and his preoccupying hatred, he still had enough left over to make sure that pesky humans didn’t interrupt them.
It was positively romantic.
And on that note, she ripped herself out of his hold, leaving him with a handful of brunette strands.
Okay, that stung. Which was kind of fun.
“You want me,” she said, passing a hand over the bald spot and regrowing more of those perfect waves.
“To die. Yeah, I do.”
“Number one, I’m immortal. And number two, let me teach you a little lesson, Jim—”
“I don’t need shit from you.”
She smiled and stared pointedly at his sex—which had made a tent out of the most dreadful pair of sweatpants she’d ever seen. “I’m not sure about that. And I’d listen closely to this, if I were you—you are a new player in town. Me and the Maker? We go back further than that proverbial twinkle in your father’s eye. He created me, Jim. I am as beloved to Him as your boss, Nigel. I am the balance—without me, there is no Heaven, no goodness, no peaceable hearts-and-flowers bullshit, because when it comes to free will, contrast is required if the gifts are to be relished. I am His idea.”
The angel crossed his arms over his chest. “Then why is the game predicated on your destruction?”
“More like it’s predicated on Nigel’s.” She looked him up and down, measuring his body, that big, muscular body that she’d had in so many different ways, both willing…and not. “You know, I chose you, too—it wasn’t just your ‘boss.’ In the beginning of all this, I agreed with Nigel that you’d be the one on the field. You were part evil and part good, as equal as we could find.” Devina walked back over to him. “So if you have a problem with the way things are being handled with any ancillaries like that reporter, it’s your fucking fault.”
“Mine?”
She put her fingertip on his chest. “You were supposed to be half-and-half, good and evil—except I gotta say, you’ve disappointed me and under-represented my side. Therefore, you’ve left me no choice but to act in precisely the way I was designed to conduct business—”
When his hand shot out again, she locked a deadly grip on his wrist. “You touch my hair once more and I’m going to fuck you up…instead of fuck you good.”
“I don’t want you—you make me sick.”
Her hand zipped right down to his cock and gave it a squeeze. “Really.”
Jim broke it off this time, slapping her away, stepping back. Abruptly his voice became level, but that was a lie. “The blondes aren’t working on me, Devina. You’re wasting your time with them.”
“Am I? Or is that just what you want me to believe.” She came forward, bringing them back together, reuniting their bodies. “I think it’s the latter.”
“It’s not getting to me, demon.” He lowered his lips back within range. “And it’s your funeral if you push the rules too far—or do you think having another go at one of the souls is the worst thing your Maker can do to you? I’m thinking it isn’t.” Jim leaned himself even closer to her, until their mouths were nearly touching. “I’m thinking He can do so much worse.”
Just to piss him off, she bit him on the lip, the blood tasting good.
He didn’t even hiss.
No, instead he turned his head and spit. Then he just looked at her—like he wanted to kill her with his bare hands.
How. Delicious. Was. That.
God, she was beyond ready for some good, old-fashioned, no-holds-barred fucking, the kind that was going to leave marks and have her sore for days.
And in the tense, almost-there silence, she considered her options. More lecturing. More needling.
Or…she could take a match out and light this bomb.
“If I were you, I’d be nicer to me,” she said, extending her tongue and lapping up the freshly welled blood on his lower lip. “Because I have something you want, don’t I—and things could get pretty uncomfortable for your little girl if I’m so inclined. What’s her name? Sissy, is it—”
Boom.
As Matthias went down on his woman, only part of his mind was on the sex. The other half was busy reporting on developments south of his waistband.
It appeared as if he was hard as a two-by-four—and just as long.
Licking at Mels’s core, sucking on her, going deep with his tongue, he couldn’t believe the erection that was now, at this very moment, enjoying the friction of being trapped between his lower belly and the mattress.
Surprise!
He’d first noticed the change in his body as soon as he’d gotten Mels naked on the bed. One look at her perfect breasts and he’d felt a shock nail the head of his cock.
He’d glanced down at his hips and then figured he’d lost his mind.
Excep
t, when he’d gotten up off the mattress to follow her into the bathroom, he could have sworn the shift of the pants over his pelvis registered a very specific kind of hi-how’re-ya.
And now, with her coming against his face, the heart of her open to his mouth, her taste hitting the back of his throat, he knew the impossible had happened.
Reaching down, he shoved his hand between his legs.
The moan that came out of him went right into her sex.
He was hard.
Rock-hard.
And desperate, apparently: because a single, quick stroke on the top of those borrowed leathers and he had to collapse into Mels’s leg, the shock, the gratitude, the—
Logic pulled all the whoo-hoo’ing up short, reminding him that just because he had an erection, that didn’t mean he could finish the job.
“Matthias?”
As he cleared his throat, Mels clearly knew something was doing, his woman rising off the pillows. “What is it?”
Straightening, he got on the mattress and balanced on his knees. Then he took her hand and drew it forward. He didn’t trust his voice, but then again, there was no need to talk this out. The instant she felt him, she was going to understand.
Thinking back to that craziness with Adrian in the bathroom, he still had no idea what had happened—but in addition to getting his vision back, he was now hard, and he was more than willing—and, thanks to that guy, he appeared to be, after so long, able as well.
He nearly teared the fuck up.
To be with her, really be with her…
That man was an angel, capable of miracles.
Matthias placed her palm on himself. The second contact was made, his hips jerked forward, his cock pushing into her touch, his molars locking from the shock of the pleasure.
Mels stiffened—natch.
Speak, you fool, he said to himself. Say something.
Instead, all he could do was rub himself against her, rolling his hips—which kind of counted as begging, he supposed.
And oh, sweet Jesus…Mels took over from there, her face rapt, her eyes gleaming as she gripped him through the pants.
Falling to the side, he let her claim him, his body going loose as she knelt between his legs and went for the waistband of the leathers Adrian had lent him.