Charlie's Angel (8 page)

The single nod was enough for Charlie. Taking her by the elbow as if she’d try to make a hasty escape like a butterfly might, he turned off the bike’s ignition and pulled out the key. Absolute silence reigned, and his ears rang.

As was his habit, he was taking charge. He wouldn’t allow Roxie to dictate to him, although, he wondered where she have taken him if he hadn’t been in such a hurry to take care of their wild needs. He dislodged his helmet from his head then set it on the seat along with hers. If he picked her up in his arms and carried his prize across the threshold, would she complain? He suspected she would and refrained from the euphoric action.

Out of habit, he scanned the condos and the countryside quickly before, still cupping her elbow, he ushered her into the condo. Her mouth didn’t drop open in astonishment as he expected, which caused him to wonder again. Who was Roxie really and where did she come from?

As soon as they were inside, and the door was locked, which Charlie made it a great point to remember, she pushed him back against the cool wall, crushing him between it and her soft body. Even through the solid leather, he felt her quiver, and he swore her nipples were hard against his chest.

“I want you,” she said, slipping the jacket from his shoulders. He helped her by shrugging out from the sleeves, and although normally he’d have folded it and set it on the back of a chair, this time he didn’t care. All his thoughts and every part of him were fully focused on Roxie, his angel of salvation. Her fingers nimbly unfastened the buttons of his shirt then she pressed her lips against his as she caressed his bare chest with her warm palms. His erection strained for release, and when she reached his belt buckle and freed him, he moaned with relief.

“I wanted you from the moment I first saw you,” she said, her voice laden with silken huskiness.

Charlie stretched his hand toward the zipper of her leather jacket, but she pushed him away.

“Later, you’ll get your turn. For now, you’re all mine. Every single inch of you.”

He thrilled at the notion that forceful, gorgeous Roxie was once again in charge. “You know normally I’m the one who takes care of my woman.”

She paused as she unzipped his trousers. It was as if a light switch had been turned off. Roxie moistened first her lower lip then her upper. Her eyes were wild and frightened.

Uh-oh. He’d said words she didn’t want to hear. Most women were excited at a wealthy man calling the shots and at being called “my woman”, but not Roxie.

Her exasperated gaze raked his face and pinned his eyes. “Charles Vernon, I’m only
your
woman for the night. You’d best leave it at that.”

Which was another confirmation that she was hiding something.
Your will be done, as long as you hurry, Roxie, whoever you really might be. In other words, I shouldn’t expect more than what I’m getting. But you’ve clearly stated this is a short-term relationship of one night. I can understand that. A woman who’s on the run or covering up something doesn’t want anyone or anything holding her down.

Roxie witnessed the recognition of the boundaries she’d set on Charlie’s face, and satisfied that he understood where they were, she lifted her face to his and kissed him. If he had been unyielding, she’d have left right away, but he returned the prelude to sex in a practiced manner, just the way she liked her men to be. Of all the silly choices, why did she have to meddle with Charlie Vernon? Didn’t he have a variety of sources to help him at his fingertips? Couldn’t she have been attracted to someone else? Why did it have to be a prominent lawyer who was wealthy and reminded her of the luxurious lifestyle she’d left behind?

Her tongue laved each of his lips. He tasted fresh, of a hint of lemon. The fire in her veins roared over her as he opened for her. His hot breath mingled with hers, and suddenly, she was tugging at the remainder of his clothes with a determined vengeance. Charlie pushed away from the wall and circled his arms around her waist, drawing her lower body to his to trap her fingers between the flat of her stomach and his erect penis.

Their tongues mated, tasted, explored. Charlie’s hands traveled up Roxie’s relaxed spine, along the soft leather and into her lustrous hair. He loved the scent, the wildness, yet the tameness of her. Her secretiveness added a forbidden spice to her, to that kiss, and he indulged himself, careful not to pull on her tresses. She was giving herself to him, and for now, there was nothing else that mattered, even the danger of Rowter. Here, in his house, the man wouldn’t be able to get to her. He’d have to get through Charlie first.

Inwardly, Roxie sighed with enjoyment. This kiss was the most spectacular ever, she decided, extricating her fingers from between their bodies. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to hold onto him. He was quite the catch—for a society girl, which she’d ceased being the moment she’d fled from her father’s bodyguards. Precious freedom meant more to her than anything else she could have wanted, and to make love to Charlie brought forth the exhilaration of being free of prying eyes.

She cupped Charlie’s silk-clad buttocks in her palms, lifting him higher against her belly. He heaved a deep groan into her mouth. Their hot breath mingled, sending a ripple of pleasure down into her yearning center. Her breasts ached with an unaccustomed ferocity that left her puzzled. What was Charlie doing to her that no man had done before? A simple caress left her breathless, panting for more. This once she’d satisfy herself as she’d yearned to do since her days of freedom had begun.

His fingers disentangled from her hair, and he drew away. “I want you. Do you want me?”

Roxie felt certain he was asking, as a gentleman would, to ensure he wasn’t confusing her signals. She snorted, an act she’d learned from Eileen. “If I cross four lanes of heavy traffic and almost get killed in the process, do you think it was just because I thought you needed a cold drink?”

Charlie grunted but kept his hungry eyes focused on her face. Under his scrutiny, she felt a feminine thrill ride through her.

“I didn’t think my great comfort was on your mind.” He smiled good-naturedly. “More like you were hot for me.” A darting glance at her breasts, and he added, “Like I was for you, Roxie. Can I take you upstairs?”

She laughed flirtatiously. “Charles Vernon, I thought you’d never ask.”

He swept her into his arms and against his massive chest as if she were a rag doll, ran up the stairs from the foyer and into a corridor with many closed doors. After that, Roxie closed her eyes. She’d vowed so many times since she’d escaped her prison that she wouldn’t become angry when she saw crystal chandeliers, ornate wood molding and expensive furniture. She’d concentrate on Charlie. Once their lovemaking was done, she’d slip away into the night. As quietly as a woman could on a loud motorcycle, she amended, suppressing a chuckle.

If Charlie had hopped on behind her, she’d have driven into the mountains and made love to him on the blanket she’d brought, but she hadn’t counted on the urgency of fulfilling her desires. Neither had she figured in that he was a stuffed shirt when it came to trying something new. She’d seen the quickly concealed horror in his eyes when she’d ridden up. She loved the excitement of owning her own bike, of revving up the engine and slipping in and out behind slow-moving vehicles on the freeway.

She felt him kick a door open with the toe of his shoe and abruptly took in the scent of clean sheets, delicate flowers and Charlie’s lingering musky scent.

“You can open your eyes now,” he whispered tenderly.

She batted her eyes open to find the room in half-light with a bed-stand light at low power providing the only illumination. He sank to the bed, depositing her as he would have a crystal vase that might shatter with any sudden, uncalculated movements.

Roxie sank into the mattress on top of the cotton sheets. She suspected the bed had been made up to perfection earlier.

“I love the color of your eyes,” Charlie said, bending to brush each eyelid in turn with gossamer kisses. “As beautiful as a sparkling sapphire.” The rasp of her jacket’s zipper cleaved the ensuing silence.

Charlie was about to discover she wore nothing underneath. Only a pair of shell pink, lace-edged panties. Earlier, as she showered, she’d wanted to surprise him and being bare was as good as any.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, her heart beating erratically. The zipper was all the way down to her waist.

He unhooked it, and she saw him suck in a breath. His pupils narrowed as his lips crooked in a grin.

“You’re not wearing anything,” he whispered in awe.

Grinning, she swept the fronts of the leather apart and bared her breasts.

“Oh God,” was all she heard him say then he leaned forward, and said, “You can grab my ass any time,” and laved her erect nipple.

Roxie squirmed and did exactly as he’d suggested. She reached around him, clamped her palms to his ass cheeks and squeezed for good measure.

“Easy there, honey,” came his garbled voice. “I can’t grow another pair.” He suckled her other nipple and trailed kisses to her navel.

It was her turn to moan as she stroked his backside. “Take your trousers off,” she muttered urgently, needing to feel his hard cock nestled against her thighs. Too late, she noted her use of the word ‘trousers’. Did working women use that name for a man’s pants?

“You were making good headway downstairs.” He chuckled, effortlessly hefted himself to his feet and shucked off his remaining clothes.

Unable to help herself, Roxie pulled herself to one side, leaned up on one elbow, and stared. The breath caught in her throat and refused to release. Charlie was every bit man. His chest was lightly matted with fine, dark hairs, and his whole body was tanned. His abs were hard angles and planes. His waist was small, and his rigid cock was the largest she’d ever seen. She’d suspected as much when she’d ground her hand against him earlier, but now she had visual, tantalizing proof.

Quickly, before he could stop her, she pulled off her pants, reveling in the appreciation she found in his gaze. Impossibly, his penis became wider and larger right before her eyes.
That’s all for me,
she thought in wonder.

“I want to slide my cock into your wet pussy,” he murmured, kneeling beside her. The mattress sagged to accommodate his weight, and his musky scent wafted around her drawing her into his sexual web. Idly, his index finger traced a circle on the outside of her upper thigh, tickling then mesmerizing her. He could do anything he wanted, and she would be his, but it could only be for this one night.

Honeyed juice trickled down between her legs.

“I want that too.” Her voice of invitation was like the wind whispering through new, early summer leaves. Keeping her eyes on his face, she scissored her legs apart, and edged her finger to the wet pearl that must surely be glistening in the low light from the lamp. Her thighs trembled.

His hand clamped over her wrist so quickly she hardly dared to think anyone could be so swift. “No,” he ground out. “Let me do that.”

With gentle firmness, he settled her hand at her side. His gray eyes sparkled.

Feminine pleasure shot through Roxie again. She would never have guessed that morning that she’d be lying naked in a virile man’s bed that night.

He spread her legs wider, knelt between her legs and gazed for a long while between her thighs.

“What do you see?” she asked in a husky whisper, curious to know how he perceived her.

“I see a beautiful woman, her silken thighs wide apart to show off her clit and the pink folds of her labia. There is a point of moisture catching the light, beckoning to me.”

So he knew a great deal about women, Roxie told herself, not embarrassed in the least. She was in capable and practiced hands for the night. Which turned her on. Reaching out, she touched his upper arm and the hard muscles there.

“Roxie, you drive me crazy,” was all he said as if he were being tortured senseless. His thumb idled along her skin at the juncture of her upper thigh and her mons. She shivered as heat seared through her, and her muscles tensed in heightened anticipation.