Solstice Seduction

by Bronwyn Green

  "It's a brilliant idea,” he breathed as he framed her face with his big, warm hands.

  Chapter Two

  Emerson shoved at Taliesin's chest as he lowered his face to hers. His heart thundered beneath her palm and she half-heartedly pushed again. She didn't push as hard as she could have—as hard as she should have. Did she actually want him to kiss her? With a sinking sensation she realised that yes, she wanted to know what it felt like to have his lips on hers. She wanted to know what he tasted like. She shouldn't give in to the curiosity, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to stop him. She had plenty of time to argue more strenuously or at least call for assistance, but she didn't. Instead, she moistened her suddenly dry lips. And waited.

  All she could see was Taliesin. If she was honest with herself, she'd admit he was all she wanted to see. His lips hovered a fraction above hers and the warmth of his breath drifted over her skin. She'd thought he might be tentative, but he took her mouth with a soft insistence that surprised her. Searching, tasting, he coaxed a response from her as he slid his fingers into her hair, removing the clip at her nape and letting it tumble to the desk. Her hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders as he dragged his fingers through the length.

  She shouldn't be letting him kiss her. She sure as hell shouldn't be returning his kisses. No matter how many times she told herself to move away, she found herself edging closer. It was a wonder she hadn't pushed him onto the couch behind them and plastered herself against his body.

  His hand slipped from her hair to settle at her waist. Exerting gentle pressure, he pulled her flush against his body—flush against the hard ridge of his cock. Her breath caught in her throat and his tongue slipped past her parted lips, delving inside to taste her. He stroked her tongue with his own and she realised her fingers had tangled tightly in his hair.

  He thrust his cock against her and swallowed the shuddering whimper that escaped her as he slipped his hand between their bodies and splayed one big hand over her belly. If her panties hadn't been uncomfortably damp before, they certainly were now. In a slow but insistent climb, he inched closer to her breast. Her nipples had already contracted into tight knots before he ever reached his destination. Finally, he cupped the taut, aching weight of her breast and brushed his thumb across the rigid nub.

  She arched into his touch. She wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin more than she wanted to breathe. Tugging his shirt upward, she trailed her fingertips over his tightly muscled abdomen, as it rippled and flexed under her touch. Heat radiated off his skin and she wanted more. She wanted him hot and heavy between her thighs, his weight pinning her to the desk ... the floor ... the couch. She didn't care at this point. She just wanted him. Hooking her fingers in his waistband, she tugged him closer.

  He dragged open-mouthed kisses along the side of her neck. He continued pressing against her and she braced herself against the desktop, her hand knocking the stapler to the floor. Startled by the clatter, she bolted upright and bumped her head on Taliesin's chin. Blinking, she looked around as if waking from a dream. They both panted for breath, their clothes were askew and he had a raging hard on. Horror-tinged ice raced through her veins, and she raised a shaking hand to her mouth.

  "Oh my God,” she whispered in horror. Tears burned her eyes as she raised her gaze to Taliesin's. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry. This never should have happened."

  He cupped her cheek, but she flinched and pushed him away. Hard.

  "I don't know if you remember, Em, but I kissed you."

  "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have responded. This is inexcusable.” Nausea swamped her as the gravity of the situation made sank in on her. “I'll get an orderly. You need to file a report."

  "What the hell for?” he demanded.

  Was he insane? Wait ... train ... mental hospital ... right. She just stared at him.

  "I'm not filing any report, Emerson. It's not gonna happen."

  "But—"

  "But nothing,” he interrupted.

  "You're a patient."

  Taliesin stared at her pale face, her stricken expression.

  "Em, it's okay. I don't belong here."

  A bubble of hysterical laugher escaped her. “You tried to commit suicide. By train.” She dashed her hand across her eyes. “I think you're in the right place."

  Frustration tightened his hands. “I didn't. Let me explain."

  Her hair swirled in disarray around her shoulders and her blue eyes were bright with fear and anger. “Right. You were pushed. I forgot.” She lifted the phone from its base and began punching numbers. “I need to call an orderly,” she said more to herself than to him. “We need to file a report and get you assigned to someone else."

  "No.” He pulled the phone from her hand and set it on the desk behind him. “I need you to listen."

  "Okay. I'm listening.” She backed toward her purse—probably to get her cell phone.

  "Em, I need you to really listen. Please, just sit down and I'll explain everything."

  Her gaze darted toward the door, but he stood between her and the exit. Clearly biding her time, she sat on the edge of her chair.

  "Please don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you."

  He hated seeing her fear directed at him. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. The sweet scent of her skin clung to him. Spiced vanilla and roses—it was enough to make him groan aloud. Hell, so was the memory of her soft, pliant lips and the taut warmth of her skin.

  He realised he was resorting to melodrama to say that he wanted her more than any other woman he'd ever met, but it was true. His entire body ached to have her—not just his cock. Of course, that part of his body stood at painful attention, waiting for him to do something about it. But first he had to make her understand.

  "I've never told anyone this before...” He shoved his hair out of his face. How did one go about confessing that not only was he not human, he wasn't mortal either? He glanced at her. “Remember when I mentioned that the train engineer couldn't see my friend?"

  She nodded, her gaze darting between him and the door. “You said he was rarely visible to humans."

  "He's not. He prefers it that way.” Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he feared. “He's an angel."

  Another hysterical laugh escaped her. “An angel?"

  And then again, it might be more difficult.

  "Yes, an angel. Gabriel, God's messenger."

  The fear began to fade from her eyes and she crossed her arms over her chest. “You ought to know I'm the absolute last person you should try to pull this on,” she snapped. “I don't believe in angels, and most days I don't believe in God."

  Of all the things she could have said, he hadn't expected that. He opened his mouth, but she spoke over anything he might have said.

  "I'm sorry. My beliefs have no place in a therapeutic relationship.” She gestured loosely, “I'm a little stressed out right now. Please continue."

  He laughed. “Somehow, I think we've moved way beyond therapy."

  "Anyway,” she prodded.

  "I'm an angel, too."

  She leaned back in her chair, scepticism written clearly over her face. “Where are your wings?"

  He sighed. She wasn't going to make this easy. “I'm sorry—I should have said I was an angel.” Reaching for the hem of his shirt, he pulled it up and over his head. He didn't miss the desire that glowed in her deep blue eyes before she schooled her expression to bored nonchalance. He turned knowing what response his back would get. She wasn't the first human who had seen his scars, but she was the first one who would hear the truth about them. Her gasp filled the room as he stood and let her look her fill.

  "What happened?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  He turned around and leaned against the desk. “I fell."

  "I don't understand."

  "Many of God's chosen, his angels, his protectors of mankind willingly sinned. And we were banished. We became the fallen."

  Her expression of concern
and horror twisted his gut.

  "What happened?"she asked.

  He shrugged. “The usual sins—lust, envy, pride, greed."

  "Sloth?"

  He laughed. “There's not a lot of room for sloth in Heaven."

  Her curiosity shone clearly but she stayed silent.

  He took pity on her and voiced the question she refused to ask. “My sin was pride. I was the Angel of Inspiration. I visited artists, musicians, writers and prodded them toward their best work. After a while, I believed my own hype. I believed my work was the only thing that brought these people to their full potential. To their genius."

  He paused and watched her, trying to gauge her reaction. It was impossible to tell. Either she believed him, or she was cataloguing his perceived mental illnesses.

  "What happened?” she finally asked. “When you were banished."

  "I was called before the Divine Power and a group of my peers. In my vanity, I actually argued my case.” Despite the centuries that had passed, he remembered it all as if it happened yesterday. The pain wasn't nearly as sharp but it was still there. “I was deemed guilty and Michael drew his sword and severed my wings. I've been wandering the earth ever since."

  He waited for her to say something. Anything. Instead, they sat in endless silence. Finally, she shifted in her chair and grabbed his file folder and a pen off her desk.

  "You've suffered a very serious injury,” she said, clearly back in therapist mode. “You're just as much a human being as I am. Isn't it possible that perhaps, you've created this alternate existence to deal with the pain of your wounds and whoever hurt you?"

  "No, Dr. Matthews, it's not."

  "I don't doubt you're a brilliant musician ... and for all I know, a writer too. You're certainly a wonderful storyteller, but you and I both know there's no such thing as immortality."

  He needed her to understand—to believe. He had no idea why it was so important. It just was. Sighing, he dragged his hand through his hair. “I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this."

  "What do you mean?” she asked.

  He snatched a pair of scissors from Emerson's desk and turned to face her. Holding his left hand palm up, he rammed the blades through his extended flesh. He gritted his teeth. Just because he couldn't die didn't mean that a thick blades through several inches of bone, muscle and tendons wouldn't hurt.

  Emerson's gasp changed to a strangled scream. “Oh, my God! Taliesin, what in the hell are you doing?” She grabbed the phone. “I'm calling the infirmary."

  "Don't Em. Not yet,” he grated. “Just watch."

  In horrified silence she paused as he slowly withdrew the instrument. As they watched, the blood flow stopped, and the skin quickly knitted itself back together. He flexed his hand, showing her the front and the back. The blood hadn't even had time to dry, but the wound was gone.

  Her mouth fell open and her eyes were huge. “How did you do that?"

  "It's the whole immortality thing. I can't die."

  She shook her head, her breathing rough and uneven. Grabbing his hand, she pulled it to her chest and wiped away the remaining blood. “It's a trick. It's gotta be a trick,” she muttered.

  He shook his head. “It's not.” Pulling his hand from her grasp, he placed the bloodied scissors at his wrist, dug in and dragged the blades downward, opening his forearm to the elbow.

  "Fuck, that hurts!"

  Together they watched, as his body healed itself. Finally, she grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped at the blood that spilled down his arm.

  "Now do you understand?” he asked. “Now do you believe me?"

  Shaking violently, Emerson wrapped her arms around her middle.

  Taliesin pulled her to his chest, holding her tightly. He smoothed his hand over the back of her head, in an attempt to soothe her. “I'm so sorry, Em. I didn't mean to scare you, but I didn't know how else to convince you."

  Slowly, she relaxed, melting into his embrace and circling his waist with her arms. “I think I'm losing my mind,” she mumbled against his chest.

  "If you were, you'd be in the right place,” he said with a chuckle. “But you're not."

  He felt her answering smile against his chest. “Smart ass."

  Tilting her head back, she searched his eyes. “So you can't die?” she whispered.

  Shaking his head, he smoothed his hand along the side of her face. “Not with mortal implements."

  She drew a shaky breath. “Oh.” Almost absently, she trailed her fingertips over his chest, tracing the delineations of his muscles.

  His adrenaline flooded body demanded more. More of her touch. More of her taste. More of her. He slid his fingers through her hair to cradle the back of her head. Slipping his other arm around her waist, he crushed her to him as he captured her mouth. She opened easily, as if she'd been waiting for him to get on with it. Angling her head, he slipped inside and tasted the sweetness that was Emerson, groaning as her tongue stroked his. It wasn't enough.

  He slid his hands beneath her deep blue sweater. It was as soft as he'd thought it would be, but it wasn't nearly as soft as her skin. Burying his face in the side of her neck, he inhaled her spicy-sweet scent as he deftly unhooked the clasp of her bra. Soon he'd have her in her naked glory, writhing for his touch.

  Breaking from his embrace, she walked toward the door and his heart sank. Had she simply been biding her time, waiting to escape from the crazy man in her office?

  "Em, wait."

  With a soft smile, she keyed in the code for the lock and then turned to stare at him. Holding his gaze, she grabbed the hem of the sweater and tugged it and the bra off, baring her to his gaze. Rosy nipples topped her full, creamy breasts. He had to taste them.

  Crossing the room in swift strides, he pinned her against the door and took her mouth again. He cupped her breasts, loving the way her nipples peaked against his palms. Her responsiveness heightened his arousal—not that it wasn't already nearing a level of ravenous need. God, he wanted her. She reached for his waistband and unfastened the button and zipper. Sliding her hand inside, she wrapped her fingers around his aching cock and squeezed. He breathed deeply, trying to keep his hunger in check. He might be immortal, but he was willing to bet she had the power to do him in.

  Capturing her wrists, he pinned them above her head against the cool wood of the door. She raised a dark red brow and pushed her chest out, taunting him with the flesh he was so desperate to taste. He thrust his now freed cock against the satin skin of her stomach and kissed her, revelling in her breathless moans, but he needed more. Nipping along her jaw line, he forged a trail to her neck and down her chest over the swell of her breasts. Her body trembled for his touch as he paused and gazed at her, wanting to imprint this moment in his memory for all time.

  She opened her sleepy blue eyes and held his gaze as he lowered his lips to her body. Keeping her secured against the door, he nuzzled the underside of her breast, pleased to hear her breath catch. He teased her, coming close to the nipple but never touching it. Her breathing became more ragged and she struggled trying to free her hands. He had no doubt she meant to drag his head where she wanted it. For now she'd have to wait.

  Emerson thrust her hips, whether to knock him away or provoke him into getting on with it, he wasn't sure. Opening the closure of her slacks, he pinned her to the door again with his hand flat on her belly, his fingers toying with the top edge of her tiny panties. He'd just about bet she was wearing a thong.

  "Just touch me already,” she practically growled.

  He flicked his tongue over the tip of her distended nipple. “Like this?"

  "More,” she demanded.

  He brushed a finger over the front of her damp panties. “Or maybe this?"

  "Taliesin."

  Without warning, he released her hands and scooped her up and deposited her on the couch. She landed with a bounce and he quickly stripped her remaining clothes from her body. “Or perhaps this is what you had in mind,” he murmured as he knelt between her
spread legs.

  Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't try to hide from his perusal. Instead, she watched him as he looked his fill.

  "You're so damn beautiful."

  Her lips quirked. “I didn't think angels were supposed to swear."

  He drew a finger through her swollen, damp lips, coating his skin with her nectar before painting her nipples with her damp arousal. “I think we've established I'm not a particularly well-behaved angel."

  He lunged forward and latched onto her nipple, sucking her sweet cream into his mouth. On a cry, she arched against him, driving her fingers through his hair and anchoring him to her. She tasted like heaven. He couldn't wait to drink directly from the source. Gathering her in his arms, he feasted on her nipples, back and forth between them as she thrust her slick pussy along the aching ridge of his cock. It took every bit of will power he possessed not to bury himself inside her warmth then and there.

  Forcing restraint he was nowhere near feeling, he dragged open-mouthed kisses down her belly, to the beckoning heat of her cunt. Slipping his hands under her sweetly rounded ass, he lifted her to his mouth, spreading her lips with his thumbs. Topped with tight, red curls, her sex was pink and glistened with her arousal. She was perfect.

  Her legs fell open and Taliesin lowered his face and swiped his tongue through her gathering cream. Her wordless moans sharpened his hunger. The taste of her—tangy, sweet and completely addictive—filled his mouth and satisfied him more than anything he'd ever tasted.

  He glanced at her. Her head had fallen against the back of the couch and her hair tangled around her head like a halo. Her eyes had closed and her lips were parted, delicately framing her panting breaths. Gently, he dragged his tongue upward and circled her clit as he slipped a finger into her grasping channel. God, she was snug. His balls pulled up tight at the thought of sliding his cock into her taut passage. With slow, gentle pressure he worked a second finger in and out of her grasping body. Her back bowed as he sucked her clit between his lips and nipped at it. She stiffened on a cry as her release hit. A flush washed over her skin and her hands clenched and twisted the cushions, he pushed her harder, farther. He delighted in the knowledge that he brought her to that screaming peak and was about to bring her to another one.