Kiss of an Angel (24 page)

“You’re mine,” he said fiercely, shaken by the depth of emotion accompanying the statement. Where had the possessive words come from?

“Yes,” she whispered in return, her voice husky and needy.

Letting go of the medallion, J.T. tugged on the knot of her shirt, desperate to explore every inch of her with his eyes and hands, desperate to make Caitlan his in every way. Fumbling with the front clasp of her bra, he dipped his head to string a line of wet, hot, openmouthed kisses down the side of her throat.

J.T. thought he heard Caitlan murmur, “please,” but couldn’t be sure for the blood rushing through his head and every other vital part of his body. He lifted his mouth from the warm, fragrant hallow of her neck and shoulder just as the clasp on her bra gave way. Her full, perfect breasts spilled into his waiting hands, her pale skin gleaming in the moonlight. Her nipples drew into tight buds, from his gaze or the cold air, he couldn’t be sure. Grazing his thumbs over the stiff crests, he elicited a moan of pleasure from her that echoed his own enjoyment in just watching her uninhibited response. He glanced up into her face. Her gaze was heavy-lidded with passion, any uncertainty she might have harbored minutes ago replaced by encouragement.

Her approval was all the inducement he needed. Lowering his head, he dragged his tongue across her collarbone and leisurely downward, toward the bountiful offering he held in his hands. She started at the first sweep of his tongue around the bottom swell of her breast. She moaned and slid her fingers into his hair when he opened his mouth wide over a nipple and suckled deeply, strongly, his fingers kneading the soft flesh.

A shudder passed through her and she arched toward him. Holding his mouth to her breast, she showed him in that one daring move that she needed him, this wondrous contact, as much as he needed her.

Lifting his head, he guided her slender hands to the buttons on his shirt. He braced his palms on the wall on either side of her head, looking at her flushed face. “Open my shirt, Caitie,” he told her. “I want to feel your breasts against me.”

She attempted the task but couldn’t coordinate her trembling fingers to slip the buttons through the holes. After a moment that seemed more like an eternity to J.T., he laughed abruptly and impatiently brushed her hands aside to do the deed himself. An ever-widening V quickly appeared with each button, all the way down to his belly.

The sudden cool touch of her hands on his heated flesh excited him beyond what he believed to be possible. Her palms smoothed over his chest in a timid exploration, the muscles in his belly rippling. Reining in his control and once again bracing his palms on the wall behind her, he curled his fingers into tight fists against the rough, cool wood. He granted her license to touch and explore, knowing it would cost him dearly but uncaring because her light caresses had him blazing like a match to dry kindling.

She looked up at him, her gaze shining with awe and sensual enjoyment. “You feel so good, like silk and steel ...” She plucked a nipple and he drew in a quick breath, a shy, but wholly seductive smile curving her mouth. Her tongue bathed her bottom lip with moisture, and she slowly leaned forward, tentatively touching her tongue to the flat brown disc, tasting him.

Everything in J.T. coiled up tight, and he hissed at the exquisite sensations darting through him. Desire pooled heavily in his groin, pulsing, throbbing. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her mouth back under his. “Enough,” he said gruffly, pleasure and pain meshing. “I’m going to die if I don’t feel you against me now.” He captured her mouth at the same time that he crushed his chest against her breasts. Their mutual moans of satisfaction filled the dim barn.

Releasing her hair, he slowly slid his hands down the slope of her back and over the curve of her bottom. He lifted her tighter against him, reveling in the soft sounds she made, the way her hands went wild on him, on his chest, in his hair. He bunched her skirt in his fist and drew up the material, exposing her thighs to the cool night air. Softening their kisses, he whispered against her mouth, “Hold your skirt for me, sweetheart.” Having Caitlan’s hands immobile and off him gave J.T. time to shore up his control again. There was too much he wanted to do to her, with her, and she already had him on the edge.

Mindless with want, Caitlan ignored the little voice inside her head warning her of the consequences that could result from her actions. After the arousing, soul-blending incident with the medallion she was burning up inside, aching to be filled, aching to experience everything J.T. had to offer. Doing as he’d ordered, she curled her fingers around the chambray and petticoat, holding the ruffles up for him.

“Good girl,” he murmured. Running his hands up her thigh, he slipped his long, callused fingers beneath the band of her panties to cup her bottom. She let out a soft sigh, and he smiled.

“You have the warmest, softest skin,” he said, dragging his fingers around so his thumbs brushed the soft curls between her legs in a butterfly caress.

She drew in a deep quivering breath at the husky tone of his voice and his light, teasing touch. When she looked into his eyes she saw that his desire matched her own. No matter how wrong this was, she knew she wanted this intimacy, and more. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight she was his.

Slowly, he knelt before her. Caitlan sensed his determination to take things slow, for her sake and pleasure as well as his own. He hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic band of her panties and slowly pulled them down, and her passion grew with every inch he exposed. His gaze devoured her like hot, licking flames of fire.

She felt no shame, only a soul-shattering longing to give him whatever he wanted from her. Her emotions were so riveting, the yearning to be with him so devastatingly powerful, she experienced a moment of panic and tried to move away. “J.T.—”

“Shhh, he said, pressing his palms on her thighs, preventing her escape. “Please let me.”

Caitlan heard the ragged need in his voice, the throaty plea that bordered on sheer urgency, because it mirrored her own swirling emotions. Unable to deny what her body and soul craved, she allowed him to draw her panties down, over her boots. He helped her step out of them, then he absently stuffed the scrap of silk in his back pocket.

He sat back on his heels, not touching her when she wished he would, his gaze charting a slow, heated path up the length of her, lingering in places that craved his caress. Warmth stung her cheeks, and she closed her eyes to hide her embarrassment, knowing she must look like a shameless hussy, half clothed, breasts pouting, skirt clutched in her fists to reveal the part of her that wanted his touch so badly. Everything was bared to him, and she idly wondered if he could see or sense the deep, abiding love blooming inside her heart for him.

Love
. Oh, dear Lord, she couldn’t be falling in love with him!

“Look at me, Caitie.” The restraint in his voice belied his heavy, aroused breathing.

Her lashes fluttered open and she glanced down at him, blushing all over again when she saw the carnal heat in his gaze. She started to lower the skirt to hide from his hungry eyes.

“No, don’t,” he said abruptly, stopping her. He moved closer, adoring her with his gaze. “You’re so beautiful.”

With him, she
felt
beautiful, euphoric.

The unexpected sigh of his hot, damp breath on her inner thigh sent a bolt of liquid heat surging through her, nearly short-circuiting her nerves. His strong hands held her quivering thighs apart and supported her when her knees would have buckled. She realized his brazen, erotic intent in the way his tongue caressed her flesh—long, soft strokes that teased and tantalized in an attempt to coax her thighs farther apart for him.

“J.T.,” she gasped, hating how her voice trembled with uncertainty and the desire for him to continue with his sensual invasion. The tug-of-war of emotions raging inside her confused her, wanting J.T. to continue, but knowing how wrong it would be to let him take her any higher.

But the sensations didn’t feel wrong, not with J.T.

“Open for me, Caitie,” he murmured huskily, and when she finally did he groaned deep in his throat and pressed his mouth against the apex of her thighs, tracing the soft, alluring folds with his tongue, probing delicately.

Caitlan moaned at the exquisite feelings J.T. evoked in her, soaring her out of control, past the stars and the heavens. He pushed her closer to a place she knew would be nothing short of paradise.

J.T. reveled in Caitlan’s open response, loving the breathless catch in her throat and the lush, petal softness of her desire. He nuzzled her softly, wanting to savor the sweetness of her, wanting to fill himself with every secret, silken part of her. He tasted her sensual melting just as her panting filled his head. Knowing she neared the crest, he splayed his hands on her quivering thighs, lending whatever support he could.

Then it came, the tiny spasms rippling through her. He listened to her breathless moan of pleasure, then his name slipped past her lips as the tremors subsided.

In a fluid movement he stood, ignoring the stiffness in his knees for the beautiful expression on Caitlan’s face. Before she had a chance to float back to earth, before the edge of her climax ebbed away, he pulled her leg around his hips, pressing denim against her sensitive flesh, and let her get used to the hard, thick length of him, and the idea of them joining completely.

Her eyes widened in shock, but before she could say anything he covered her lips with his and thrust his tongue into her mouth, kissing her slowly, deeply, showing her how good she tasted, like warm, silky honey and feminine satisfaction. He showed her with the deep stroking of his tongue how he wanted to make love to her body. Showing her, again and again, that he couldn’t get enough of her, that tasting her, kissing her, touching her, was nothing compared to the way he wanted to fill her and make her his. Only his. He ached with a raw need so powerful it threatened the shields around his heart. The emotion frightened the hell out of him, but he refused to give up the sweet softness and solace Caitlan’s body offered.

Caitlan wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. Twisting sinuously, she rubbed against him, pleasuring herself and at the same time arousing him to the point of exploding. She went wild, arching closer, and when he heard those broken whimpers begin, signaling how close she was to climaxing yet again, he pulled away from her, letting her leg go.

She gave a cry of protest, and he palmed her breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb. “Tell me what you want, Caitlan,” he demanded. He tried to shake the vulnerability creeping up on him, the feeling of becoming so totally lost in Caitlan that he’d never be the same again.

She looked like a wanton gypsy, her disheveled hair framing her pretty face, her lips swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were limpid with passion and something deeper and more touching that J.T. didn’t want to analyze. “I want ...” She looked away, a timid catch to her voice.

Damn, he couldn’t believe she was so flustered after everything he’d done to her, everything she’d done so uninhibitedly. With his finger beneath her chin, he brought her gaze back to his. “Tell me, Caitie,” he urged.

“I want you,” she pleaded in a ragged whisper. “I want this. Please.”

Her confession should have brought him satisfaction. Instead, he experienced a startling wave of emotion that gripped his heart. He refused to fully acknowledge the growing feeling.

Guiding her hand to the front of his jeans, he cupped her palm over the burgeoning ridge there, leaving the ultimate decision up to her. “If you want me, then help me, Caitlan. Show me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you. I’ll make it so good you’ll be addicted, and I’ll give you as much as you want....” He let his words drift away, giving her the option of halting their lovemaking if she wanted to.

Her fingers trembled, but she didn’t pull away. A reluctant kind of acquiescence shimmered in her eyes, as if she couldn’t help wanting him, any more than he could control how being one with her was becoming as essential as breathing.

“Once I’m deep inside of you there’ll be no turning back,” he went on. “The choice is yours, Caitie, but make your decision fast.”

She did then, tugging at his zipper and freeing him. Groaning at her sweet surrender, he wrapped her fingers around his length, moving slowly, sliding against her cool palm. When the building pressure shoved him to the very edge he drew her leg around his waist once again, but this time nothing separated their flesh.

“Wrap both of your legs around me, Caitie,” he said, and she did, circling her arms around his neck at the same time. Her nipples grazed his chest, and their bellies rubbed erotically. Bracing her against the wall, he tilted her hips for his entrance. She was wet, very wet, and slick from spent passion, but as he pushed inside her, she stiffened and whimpered, burying her face into his shoulder.

J.T.’s body shook. She was tight, so tight he suspected this was her first time, or very close to it. But he was at a point where he couldn’t stop, not even if someone put a gun to his head. Ignoring the instinctive urge to thrust deeply, he murmured soft words to her, entering her slowly. He pulled her legs as high and tight as he could around him, and with a sweet little cry she arched and he slid into that satin sheath to the hilt. He groaned as liquid heat engulfed him, fusing them as one. They fit perfectly together, he thought, as if they had been made for one another.