A Fortune's Children's Wedding (19 page)

“Don't you think I know that?”

“Then tell me, Angel. Are you—”

“Drunk?” She moved sinuously against him. “No, Flynt, I'm not.”

“Not even a little dizzy?”

His lips feathered hers in a series of light little kisses that were both stimulating and maddening because he wouldn't kiss her the way she wanted him to, deep and slow and intimate.

She did feel a little woozy, Angelica silently conceded, but she was sure it wasn't the result of the wine. If she was drunk, it was with desire.

“I'm dizzy because you're making my head spin, Flynt,” she said.

At that moment, the plane encountered a patch of turbulence. Angelica clutched him for balance. They stood pressed together, holding on to each other until the plane was once again cruising smoothly.

She looked up at Flynt, laughter bubbling within her. Her head felt as if it was going to float right off her body. “That was exciting, like a ride at the county fair. Think it'll jump up and down like that some more?”

“I sincerely hope not. I make it a point to avoid rides that shake up your insides.”

His eyes bored into hers. “But if it's excitement you're looking for… Ever hear of the Mile-High Club, Angelica?”

She could smell the wine on his breath as he spoke, and his intense, focused-solely-on-her gaze was as enthralling as the feel of his body against hers.

“I've heard of it.” A rush of unexpected jealousy assailed her. “Are you a member in good standing, Flynt?”

“I've never been a member.” His expression was challenging her now. Daring her, tempting her.

“Ever think of joining, Flynt?” She was deliberately baiting him and was pleased when he exhaled harshly.

“Not until this particular flight.” His lips nipped playfully at hers. “What about you, Angel?” He unbuttoned her jumpsuit to the waist as he spoke, his fingers deft and quick. “Care to attain membership?”

She gasped as his hand brushed the smooth satin of her bra, then reached inside the cup to take her nipple and squeeze, his fingers, his touch exquisitely gentle.

A moan of quiet desperation sounded, and Angelica realized it had come from her. “Yes, Flynt.” She heard a faraway voice, her own voice, whisper, “Please.”

Her arms were around his neck, and he smoothed his hand over her hip, over the curve of her bottom and lifted her high, draping it over his hip. She'd barely had time to adjust to this provocative angle when he boosted her up.

Instinctively she wrapped both her legs around his waist.

“That's it,” he said, his voice softly, sexily encouraging.

Savoring the intimacy of their position, craving even more, they kissed greedily, frantically.

Angelica felt her insides soften and melt in hot liquid waves. She felt heavy and tight. Confined by too many clothes. She wanted something she'd never before experienced, the sensation and the freedom of bare skin against skin.

Sensing her need, attuned to it, Flynt pushed aside the dark curtain and carried her into the small bedroom.

Once inside, he set her on her feet beside the bed. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt and she began to unfasten them, her hands trembling. Flynt helped her after she'd fumbled with the first two. Working together, they managed to discard his shirt swiftly.

Angelica allowed herself the luxury of pressing her palms against the hard smoothness of his chest, running her hands over his heated skin. She traced the contours
of his ribs, the shape of his nipples; her fingers followed the path of crisp dark hair arrowing down into his jeans.

Daringly she slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband.

Flynt inhaled sharply and went still. And then he trembled, uttering a deep groan. Angelica was enthralled with her power. She needed only to touch him, to hint at the possibility of more, and he went weak.

And then Flynt caught her nape and pulled her to him, kissing her with a demanding possessive urgency, and she realized that she was the weak one. The needy one. Wanting him in a way she had never experienced, but somehow intuitively knowing that she needed him inside her, to be a part of her.

He slipped the bodice of her jumpsuit off her shoulders, her arms, letting it fall to her waist. His hands cupped her breasts through her bra, holding them, testing their shape. The satiny fabric shifted and tightened, rubbing against her taut nipples, increasing their sensitivity even more.

Flynt brushed his thumbs lightly over them, and she whimpered as sensual electricity bolted through her. He continued to draw slow, almost leisurely circles, barely touching her, and Angelica arched forward, needing more.

His expression grew more intent and he traced the shadowy cleft between her breasts before unclasping the front clip of her bra. He quickly removed the soft snowy white garment and dropped it on the bed.

Her breasts were free and bared to him and he closed his hands over them, caressing and massaging as fire
coursed through her. They kissed, and her breasts rubbed his naked chest, the erotic friction sending her higher.

She felt his lower body throbbing against her, and a powerful curiosity drove her to lay her hand against his belly. Her face was flushed with embarrassment mingled with need.

Her hesitancy cued Flynt to clasp her wrist and guide her hand lower.

Through the denim of his jeans, she felt him, his heat, his hardness. She impulsively flattened her hand against him and her fingers learned the shape of him, the weight and thickness.

Inspired, she tried to unbutton the top metal button of his fly. She couldn't do it and moved to the zipper. The same bad luck plagued her there.

“They're both stuck,” she mumbled, exasperated.

Flynt gave a rumble of laughter. “Let me help you out here.”

He rid himself of his jeans and navy cotton knit boxers in what seemed like a millisecond.

“You're good at this,” she observed, feeing suddenly shy.

“At undressing myself? Well, I started early. I was about two, I guess.”

“You know what I mean.” Her temper flared. “You have no trouble at all undressing in—with—” She paused and heaved a sigh, unable to sustain that indignant flash. “You know what I mean, Flynt.”

“I'm no bedroom Olympian, if that's what you mean, Angelica.” He took her hand. “And I've never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”

She wrapped her fingers around his rigid sex and felt the hot flesh pulsing.

Dazed, she was hardly aware as he slipped her jumpsuit over her hips, taking her underwear with it. They pooled around her feet, and he picked her up and deposited her on the bed.

Lying beside her, he took his time with her, exploring her curves, the hollows, the rounded softness, his hands tracing a path of heat that conversely made her shiver.

He splayed his fingers as his palm glided over her belly, his fingertips brushing the lush tangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Their eyes locked.

She knew he was seeking her permission to continue, and she loved him for his consideration, for his willingness even now, at this crucial stage, to put her wishes before the powerful urge driving him.

She knew she would never have to be afraid of him using his strength against her, she loved the way he—

It took a moment for Angelica to catch up with her own thoughts.

She loved him!

She drew a swift, gasping breath. She'd said it in her mind yet the realization hadn't fully registered until this moment. She loved Flynt for his consideration, true, but for so much more as well.

She loved being with him, no matter where or when. She would've never thought it possible to actually enjoy a man's company—her beloved brother Danny excepted, of course—but she would rather be with Flynt than with anyone else.

Because they could talk about anything, even terrible things, and reach an understanding, because they shared
the same sense of the ridiculous and could laugh together.

He was fun and intelligent and ambitious; she admired him. She didn't think it immodest to believe that he valued similar traits in her.

She had never thought of herself as looking for a man—that fabled female search for Mr. Right had always struck her as misguided—but Flynt had come into her life, anyway. And turned out to be the man she hadn't known she was waiting for.

I love you, Flynt,
she thought. The words pounded in her head in rhythm with her heartbeat. She thrust her hips against him, and his probing fingers stroked her, finding her center.

She moaned as his touch became more insistent, bolder, exciting her beyond reason. Something shimmered and beckoned, something wild and fiery, and she closed her eyes, her head moving back and forth, reaching, reaching…

“Just go with it, Angel,” he said. His voice urged her on, encouraging her. “I've got you. Let it happen.”

She moved with him in counterpoint and her entire existence narrowed to pure sensation. Her body twisted and arched, in his control, out of hers, and she didn't care.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he ordered, his voice a deep and sexy command. “I want you to.”

She felt herself soaring, she felt wild and primal and free. She cried his name as she shattered, overpowered by rapturous release.

Angelica clung to him until the final fluttering contractions faded into a sweet glowing warmth.

She lay curled against him, feeling languid and liquid and utterly amazed.

He slowly withdrew his fingers and kissed her lips tenderly, lingeringly. Angelica opened her eyes and found him watching her.

She blushed. And felt a stunning urge to burst into tears.

“Angelica?” He stared at her more intently.

“I want you, Flynt.” Her voice was raw and trembled with emotion.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and drew his mouth to hers. He rolled on top of her, and they kissed, lips parting, tongues teasing, tasting each other, relishing the flavor, the intimacy.

Lying beneath him, her thighs shifted and opened, making a place for him. Flynt felt the wet heat of her against him, and thought he would explode right then and there.

With a deep sigh, summoning up his considerable self-control, he moved away from her and sat up.

“Flynt!” She called his name, sounding confused and urgent and frustrated as hell.

He smiled. “Don't worry, honey, I'll be right back.”

She lay still, too dazed to move. “Where are you going?” Her voice was tight with need as she watched him stand and reach for the dark privacy curtain.

“I have—something—in my bag. And I left the bag beside the chair in the cabin.” He shook his head wryly. “And I damn well hope our friendly flight attendant doesn't make an appearance to offer us food or drink or he'll get an eyeful.”

Angelica started to giggle, which shocked her. She
never
giggled, not even back in her adolescence when girls were expected to giggle. She had always been too serious for giddiness. But she was giddy and giggling now, at the thought of the Fortune steward encountering a buck-naked Flynt.

Flynt disappeared for an instant and then returned with a small cardboard box.

“Did he—” she began, dissolving into laughter again.

“No, he didn't. Thank God!” Flynt's relief was heartfelt.

He sat down on the bed and opened the box of condoms.

She watched him lazily. “You came prepared for this, huh?”

“In answer to your
unspoken
question, no, I don't routinely travel with condoms in case I happen to get lucky.” He arched his brows, watching her as he removed the small foil packet. And tore it open. “But I bought this box the day after I met you because I
knew
we would be together, it was inevitable at some point, and I wasn't going to take any risks with you.”

He slipped on the latex sheath. “I care too much about you, Angelica. I hope you know that. I want you to know it.”

She reached up and pulled him down to her. “Thank you, Flynt.”

Her heart was in her eyes. She compared Flynt to those men who'd taken risks with her mother and then left her to face the consequences alone. There was no comparison. Before, she'd never believed that a man could care enough about a woman to want to protect her.

But now, loving Flynt, she believed it.

Flynt entered her slowly, sinking into her heat with a groan of pure pleasure. She was hot, tight, her body clenching around him.

“We fit together perfectly,” he rasped, his mouth against her neck. “It's good, Angel, so good. I knew it would be.”

Angelica kept her eyes tightly closed as her body adjusted to his. He'd described a perfect fit, but she felt stretched and painfully full….

He was kissing her and slowly, gradually, the discomfort began to fade. It was starting to feel good, being filled by him. A sigh escaped from her throat.

She smoothed her hands over the long expanse of his back and imagined telling Mara, “I'm in love with Flynt Corrigan.” Mara would scream with glee; she'd always maintained that someday Angelica would fall in love. Angelica had been equally adamant that it would never happen.

“Sweetheart?” Flynt seemed aware that her mind was drifting. “Are you okay?”

She smiled and shifted a little. “I'm a lot better than okay.”

He was right, it was so good. She loved the feeling of him deep inside her, taking pleasure in her body.

He slipped his hand between their bodies and touched her intimately. A spark shot through her, sending heat and pleasure to every nerve ending. She moaned.

Still stroking her, Flynt began to move, easing in and out of her in a slow sensual rhythm. She felt vibrations begin to pulse within her. He was taking pleasure from her body but giving it to her, too. More and more. She
felt infused with fire, a torrid heat so intense, it glowed deep in her center.

Erotic, voluptuous sensations overwhelmed her. Her body sheathing his, the delicious friction as he thrust in and out of her. His lips against her skin. His muscular shoulders that she clung to. The smell of his aftershave mingled with his sweat, mixed with the heady aroma of sex.