Fallen Angels 03 - Envy (25 page)

“Nah, it’s no problem.”

Cursing to herself, she was not at al sure of his read on the situation. And the fact that he was stupid enough to get on that rocket of his in this sort of weather real y didn’t put her in her happy place.

As Veck sat next to Reil y, he found himself thinking about his father . . . and his mother, too—although the latter was someone he couldn’t dwel on. How ironic. DelVecchio Sr. was almost always on his mind, but his mother—

“I think I’d better take you home,” Reil y said. “This is nothing you need to be going through on a bike.”

“I had no idea about your St,” he heard himself murmur. “And I wouldn’t have ever guessed it. You’re so total y put together.”

There was a pause, as if she had to change conversational lanes in her head. “Wel , a lot of it is my parents. By example and in actuality, they are who I wanted to be and who I became. It always wasn’t easy though. For a long while, I was worried that if I wasn’t perfect, they’d return me like a defective toaster. But then I wrecked my father’s new car on my learner’s permit—tested that theory pretty damn wel , and guess what? They kept me anyway.”

Staring at her profile, he said, “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“The only thing I did was take advantage of the good example that was in front of me.”

“And that’s tremendous.”

When she turned into his neighborhood five minutes later, he realized she’d taken her own advice about him and his bike and the weather.

The brakes squeaked slightly as she stopped in his driveway, and abruptly, the rain hitting the roof of the car sounded like Ping-Pong bal s.

“I think we’re having some hail,” he said.

“Yes.” She stared through the front windshield. “Bad storm.”

“No thunder.”

“No.”

The wipers flopped back and forth, clearing the view only momentarily.

Eventual y, he looked over at her. “I want to kiss you again.”

“I know.”

He laughed a little. “Am I so obvious.”

“No . . . I want it, too.”

Then turn your head, he thought. Al you have to do is turn your head and I’l take it from there.

The rain fel . The wipers slapped around. The engine idled.

She turned her head. And focused on his mouth. “I
really
want it.”

Veck leaned in toward her, and pul ed her to his lips. The kiss was very slow and very deep. And as her tongue met his, he was wel aware he wanted something more from her than just sex, but if he’d had to name what the hel it was, he’d have been out of words. Ultimately, however, the definition didn’t matter. Not in the interior of this unmarked, parked in his driveway, with the storm on the outside of the car.

What they both needed had nothing to do with talking.

God, she was stil so soft beneath him, soft skin, soft hair, soft scent, but it was the tough inner core of her, the resilience and the single-mindedness, that real y turned him on. The idea that she was such a survivor, that she was so strong and clear with who she was and where she was from, made him respect the shit out of her.

And what do you know . . . that was sexier than anything that came in a Victoria’s Secret bag.

With a surge of his torso, he tried to get even closer, but the steering wheel bit into his side, and blocked him. The caveman in him actual y growled as he gave it another shot, but he got nowhere near where he wanted to be.

Which was naked and on top of her.

On a curse, he eased back. In the reflected brightness of the headlights on the garage door, her beautiful face was minated clearly, the pattern of the rain on the windshield playing across her features, spotting them up before the wipers cleared away what looked like tears.

He thought of her with her family, so happy and at peace.

He thought of her, period.

“I’m going to go in alone,” he said abruptly.

Veck didn’t wait for a response. He was out of that car a split second later, and he hotfooted it over to the front door of his house, not because of the storm, but because he could see too clearly into himself.

“Wait!” she cal ed out as he palmed up his keys.

“Go back to your car,” he muttered in a rough, hungry voice.

Rushing over to him, she shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

With that, she lifted up her hand and pointed it in the direction of her unmarked. As she hit her remote, the locks punched down and the blinkers flared.

Veck closed his eyes and let his head flop back on his spine, the rain hitting his forehead and cheeks. “You come in here, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

Reil y’s reply was to take the keys out of his hand, unlock the dead bolt, and subtly, inexorably push him back into his house.

Just as with the kiss in the car, he took it from there.

Kicking the door shut, he unleashed himself, grabbing her and yanking her against him, holding her hard, taking her mouth again. And she attacked him right back, locking her arms around his shoulders, pressing herself against him.

The couch.

He’d moved the couch.

Thank fuck.

It was a shuffle to get over there, and the fact that he was taking off her wet coat and his, and then both of their gun holsters, didn’t make the going any easier. But soon enough he was maneuvering her down so she was stretched out on the cushions . . . and he mounted her, al but jumping on top of her body.

The kissing was heavy-duty desperate, the kind of thing where their teeth hit every now and then, and he didn’t want to stop to breathe, even though his lungs were burning from lack of oxygen—especial y as she started clawing at his shoulders.

He was not nice to her button-down.

Without breaking their lip-lock, he took its lapels in his fists and split the damn thing from col ar to hem, popping free al kinds of pearly white UFOs that sailed through the air and bounced off the carpet.

Her bra underneath was buff colored, and nothing but simple cotton that looked spectacular over her breasts. And what a relief not to have to worry about whether he’d rip delicate lace.

As he went for the uncomplicated front clasp, she was breathing fast and hard, and the undulation of her ribs under her skin was one hel of a turn-on—

that was nothing compared to when he sprang the bra and those modest cups snapped to the sides.

“You’re amazing,” he groaned as he took a proper look at her . . . something he’d cheated himself out of the night before.

Oh, man, her breasts were heavier than they appeared with her clothes on, ful er and rounder—which made him wonder whether she didn’t deliberately wear tight bras to constrict them. And what a waste f h was.

Then again, the idea of any other man ogling her like this made him want to go for his gun.

Palming up what he had revealed, he got another surprise that he’d missed in his hurry back in her kitchen. She was al natural, a gift from God, undoctored by insecurity or vanity. And the heavy, supple weight of her made his cock throb—reminding him how long it had been since he’d been with a woman who didn’t have hard-as-rock implants.

Pushing her together, her nipples were tight and erect, and he bent down, sucking on one and then the other. Then he nuzzled the undersides of what was in his hands.

So he was a breast man, after al , he thought as his hips rol ed against her legs. Who knew.

Or . . . maybe he was just a Sophia Reil y man.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he growled as he went back to work on those pink tips.

As desperate as he was to get in her, he was so captivated by her upper body, he just explored her, licking at her and touching her and watching her respond. Somehow her thighs parted—maybe it was his knee, maybe her need; who gave a shit—and then the two of them were flush where it counted most.

Pushing himself up with his arms, he started to grind against her, his erection rubbing against her core. In response, she arched in the most erotic way, her chest rising as her spine torqued, her fingernails biting into his forearms.

As he pumped against her, her breasts swayed to the beat and got him drunk, his body numb and hypersensitive at the same time—except he missed her lips. Resealing their mouths, he knew he was close to the edge of no-control . . . and then he felt her hands tugging at his shirt.

Guess he wasn’t the only one.

Abruptly, he lost his patience with his clothes, and what covered his chest was gone a moment later, ripped off like hers had been.

“Feel me,” he bit out, as he arched back over her.

He kissed her hard as her hands went everywhere, tracing over his muscles, grabbing his shoulders, streaking her nails down his ribs.

More.

“Can I get you naked?” he said.

“Yes . . .”

She lifted her hips and went for her belt at the same time he rose over her. And she did such a good job on those pants, he just sat back and watched as a pair of white cotton panties made an appearance.

When she had trouble going any further, because hel o, she had a two-hundred-pound man looming over her, he helped her draw the slacks down her long, smooth legs.

Oh, man . . . he thought, running his hands up and down her thighs. She was lean, and gently muscled, and he found himself imagining that he was spreading her wide, and dipping his head—

Snapping, he lunged at her, stretching out on top of her once more and pumping himself against her. His plan? Ease his way south and take those panties off with his teeth. Then he was going to spend a while making sure her body was good and ready for him. With his lips and his tongue and his fingers.

Turned out he had a little gentleman in him after al .

Yeah. That was it. Not because he was dying to taste her—

Except thee went for his belt.

He froze, and put his hands over hers, stil ing her.

“If that comes off,” he said roughly, “I’m not going to be able to wait for more than a split second.”

With Veck’s massive body poised above her, Reil y’s brain was focused on one and only one thing—and that was getting his pants down.

“I don’t want to wait.”

“You sure?” His voice was so guttural, it was nearly inaudible.

In reply, she shifted her hand between his thighs and palmed his sex. The instant the connection was made, he cursed on an explosive exhale, and his body bucked against her, the soft material of his pants doing nothing to hide that rigid length.

“I want to see you,” she demanded hoarsely.

Not something she had to ask twice: With fast, violent hands, he went to work on his fly, and she was the one who pul ed at the waistband. Then they were working together on his boxer briefs to free his—

His erection jutted straight out from his hips, and the lids of his eyes went low as he watched her take him in.

Holy . . .

Wel , she could use a thesaurus’s worth of terms for “magnificent,” couldn’t she. And it was safe to say that if she’d been impressed when she’d seen him in his bathroom that first night, or when she’d felt him through his clothes in her kitchen, ful y revealed and ready to roar, she was blown away. And his sex wasn’t the only sight worth seeing: His chest was just as smooth and muscled as she remembered, and his abdominals were amazing, a tight double row of ridges that led down to his pelvis and his—

“Fuck—”

As she gripped him, palm to skin, he shuddered violently, and she loved the sense of power that came from rocking his world. And oh, God, he was thick and long, pulsing and kicking against her hold as she stroked him.

She was never going to forget this, she thought, this sight of him above her, teeth bared, head back, huge chest straining as he struggled for control. It was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. And exploration was a virtue, for sure . . . but she wanted him in the deepest way before she took the time to learn his ins-and-outs.

Although phrased like that . . .

“Your wal et?” She’d seen what he kept in there when she’d handled his bil fold out in the woods—and the sight of those condoms had embarrassed her then. Now, she was grateful, because Lord knew she didn’t have anything of the sort. And there was no need to dwel on the reason a man would always have to be prepared. Besides, it wasn’t as if she didn’t know about that side of him. She’d witnessed the Britnae effect, thank you very much.

“Now,” she barked.

Yet another thing she didn’t have to ask twice about. As he found his slacks and got out his wal et, she lifted her butt and swept her panties down and off

—so that she was ready when he brought up his hand, a condom held between his fore- and middle fingers.

He paused, like he was giving her a chance to look hard at the thing.

She didn’t hesitate. She sat up and took the foiled packet from him, biting into it and ripping it open.

He groaned and then said, “I can put—”

“No, let me.”

Practicalities had never been so erotic. She handled him wel , stroking his great length as she covered him, until he was arched back and bearing his weight on his arms. As she worked him, his eyes burned, and when she pul ed him down on top of her, he growled . . . and kissed her the way she was learning he always did—with a dominance that came from a man knowing precisely what he could do to a woman.

She positioned him at her core, and in spite of how desperate she was for this and how much he obviously wanted her, he was slow and careful as he pressed inside. Good thing, too. Her body was ready—but that was a relative term, given the size of him.

Gloriously relative—the stretching was electric, and she spread her legs further, tilting her hips up, easing his way.

And then they were together.

In contrast to the fury that had gotten them to this point, everything now slowed down. With his slick tongue, he licked at her lips, the lazy laps tantalizing her as he waited for her to adjust. And then she moved her hips, curling her spine, creating an insane frisson.

The hiss he let out was fol owed by another groan. Then he fused his mouth to hers and got going, keeping the rhythm unhurried and even. Mirroring him, she countered his thrusts with her own, the sex gaining a momentum that took her at once out of her body and deep inside herself.