Wandering Heart (17 page)

That same
muscle in his jaw flexed, and then slowly, ever so slowly, his
hands spread over hers. His touch was so unexpectedly gentle,
reassuring, it sent currents of awareness through her, and so
pulsating it robbed her of all breath. She hadn't expected his
compassion.

Something warm
and wonderful rushed through her veins like a liquid wildfire. This
wasn't the right time, not the right moment, but…

It was a simple
action, the way his hands rubbed against hers. A very slow, erotic
motion. The friction between them seemed to heat the entire room.
She couldn't think any longer, she simply let herself feel.

When his lips
finally brushed like a feather across hers, and he raised his head
to look into her face, his eyes glittered with a new knowledge. She
was his to take or to play with at that moment, and he knew it. A
heady knowledge that would make most men swallow her up, but he
didn't.

He waited, his
eyes doing all the talking.

She waited with
bated breath. Her cheeks burned. Her heart pounded like horse
hooves against concrete. Her body felt heavy with needs
unspoken.

Then finally
the waiting was over. His lips claimed hers with a savage
intensity. He meant to bruise and hurt and assuage his own ego, but
when she gave in to him so eagerly, when her lips melted against
his, when she responded with a wild abandon, the kiss began to
change. He stole her breath, her heart, her being, and twisted it
into the woman she never knew she was.

In shock, he
pulled away far enough to look into her eyes, obviously assuring
himself he until had the same woman. But Angela didn't open her
eyes, not at first, not until the shock wave of his kiss
dissipated. She didn't want to miss a moment of sensations.

Her pulse was
erratic. Her breasts swelled against him as she moved toward him,
blending into him, like hot molten lava rolling over hard rock. He
groaned raggedly.

Would he let
her go, would he send her away in shame?

"I should be
telling you to go to bed, to get out, to leave," he murmured as his
lips smothered his words into her hair. Their hands began to fold
into each other.

She felt his
wild erratic heartbeat as he brushed light little kisses against
the delicate curve of her jaw, over her nose, and down to her
earlobe where he lingered.

"D…do you want
me to go?" she managed to ask as she threw her head back so his
lips could trail down her neck. Don't stop, her mind pleaded.

But he did. He
pulled away again. This time he took her face into his hands,
holding her very gently as though she were a fragile piece of china
that might break. He shook slightly, with the needs of a man, as he
stared into her starry eyes. His muscles flexed like steel.

"I didn't plan
this," he murmured, "any more than you did. But God knows how much
I want you!" His voice was ragged and breathless as though it took
all his power just to say the words. Then his eyes gleamed into
hers. "You just came from one man, and I still want you. It doesn't
seem to matter." His eyes searched hers intently. "And, unless I'm
reading you wrong, you want me too!"

"You're not
reading me wrong," she barely cried out before his lips took hers.
Her arms flew around his neck, pulling his head down, and urging
him onward. His arms were at her waist, pulling her tighter. Like
an early morning flower, she opened herself to the bright warmth of
the sunshine of his loving, her mouth receiving his, their tongues
waltzing, as though they'd known the song all along.

He gathered her
closer, much closer, pressing her into him, making her aware of his
full arousal. If she was going to run, now was the time.

There was a
gentle hesitancy in his movements, giving her space. She could walk
away if she wanted. She knew that as her eyes flew open, locking
onto him. For one long moment everything stood until.

But then, when
she didn't move, when she didn't leave, he pulled her back into the
warmth of his arms with a ragged groan, claiming her.

"Oh God," he
muttered as his lips began to plunder the soft curve of her neck.
And, when she whimpered, he smiled against her skin and went lower,
to one creamy shoulder, pushing away the gown, leaving a moist
trail of currents racing up and down her arm, until the gown would
go no further. He grumbled.

He fell to his
knees, gathering her against him. Holding her hips tightly, he
pressed his head to the warmth of her flat belly. Then he looked up
at her. "I don't care why you're here, I'm just glad you are."

He shuddered
hard, like a man too long without a woman, and she began to
tremble. Not from fear, but anticipation. There was no fear of this
man.

She smiled and
held his head to her. "I don't think I was really worried about
Josh. I think I wanted someone to hold me."

"Someone?
Anyone?" He stopped cold, and waited for her answer.

"No," she
closed her eyes throwing caution to the wind. "Not anyone . . .
you!"

He stood up, a
strange look in his eyes, as his fingers began to unbutton the tiny
buttons of her gown. His eyes never left hers. Then ever so slowly
he began pulling the gown upward, over her head and onto the floor
in a wisp.

His eyes were
on hers at first, begging permission to feast on the rest of her.
The air felt cool against her skin; she shivered, and his hands
came to warm her. First, against her back, then down, and around
her hips, slowly, seductively, as he pulled her fully against him
and he slowly stood against her.

A finger tipped
her chin so he could kiss her lightly before he permitted himself
the pleasure of looking at her.

His breathless
gasp shocked her as his eyes roamed lazily over the small fullness
of her breasts. She saw the quick rise and fall of his chest as he
fell back to gaze at her again and his lips wandered languorously
over first one small mound then the other, caressing the tips of
her breasts until they hardened and grew against him.

When she threw
back her head again it seemed to draw his attention even further
down.

He buried his
head against the firmness of her belly as he brought her hips
toward him. "You're so perfect," he murmured.

When he glanced
up at her, her eyes were closed. She was lost, transcended in time.
Ever so slowly he tugged at her briefs, pulling at the soft, satin
material, as his lips burned the silky flesh below. As the briefs
slid slowly to the floor, and his lips went lower until, she
moaned, urging him on in his conquest.

Then suddenly,
shaking, he stopped, his lips smothering every womanly part of her,
and he whispered gently, "I'm no substitute for a Congressman,
Angel. My hands are callused and rough. And I'm not much of a
gentleman for doing this. But I'm gonna love you like you've never
been loved."

He left nothing
undone. His lips were everywhere in a heated rush to please her.
She moaned raggedly.

"No one ever .
. ." she began, only to be cut off by the exquisite ecstasy of his
kisses. As his tongue flicked gently against the velvet softness of
her, she screamed out, "I've read about it, dreamed about it, but
never . . ."

The pleasure
was so overpowering, so unexpected, she couldn't get the words
out.

Suddenly she
was undressing him, kissing him back, and exploring unknown
territory. His clothes seemed to melt off him. And then their
bodies joined in a white-hot fusion that threatened to explode the
room apart. She was no longer the only one reacting. She felt his
desires, felt the heat of him, and something more, much more.
Something from deep within this man that held her, cried out for
her and her alone.

Angela trembled
at the new found power she held over this gentle man, this
gentle, caring man.

"Are you cold,
Angel?" he barely managed.

She giggled
softly, shaking her head. "Not as long as you hold me."

He carried her
to the bed, laid her ever so gently on top of the covers, and
stared down at her in awe. There was an appreciation in his eyes
she had never witnessed from a man before, not even Raif. He might
not love her, but this was no casual flirtation. There was a bond,
an unbreakable bond.

Her arms
reached to pull him down as he switched off the night-light. The
rain had slowed, making an easy listening music to their
lovemaking.

It was her turn
to explore him. She was shy at first, not wanting to look so eager,
and yet unable to stop herself once she got started. He was so
solid, so hard and warm; her tongue glided over him, making him
shudder and growl at her. She had never felt so free to touch and
to kiss. She knew she was sending him into a frenzy. Tension flowed
from him as he held himself long enough to let her satiate her own
appetite. Never had she experienced such giving and taking in such
generous proportion.

Angela smiled
to herself as she raised up over him to look at him. What freedom.
What power.

Suddenly he
rolled over and he was on top, staring down into her love-drugged
face with an open smile. "I'm glad you came home like a nun. And I
know this isn't very romantic, but in case you're wondering, I have
a clean bill of health from the doctor. But no matter. If you want
me to wear one of those confounded things, I'll go get one out of
the bathroom. Problem is, I've had them so long I don't know if
they're any good."

She giggled.
"Sounds like a couple of teenagers."

"But we're not,
are we?" he said, and sobered momentarily.

"No, we're not.
Actually, I bought a package tonight but I didn't think I had any
use for them."

Then as if
something else occurred to him he added on a lighter note. "I
wanted to rip that damned dress off of you tonight. But, I knew if
I did, I'd be lost between making you wear something respectable,
and making love to you myself."

She frowned at
herself. "I felt very cheap. It wasn't me. I knew it was all
wrong."

He played with
her curls. "And now, do you feel cheap, with me?"

"No, strangely
enough, I don't," she barely managed to say before his kisses
exploded all over her. Lost in the moment, their bodies shook with
the unspoken need of each other. His lips searched out her breasts
once more, lavishing warm kisses in mesmerizing circles around the
hard little nipples.

She moaned
raggedly, and pulled his head back to hers. She looked deep into
his eyes, trying to read him. "I know how this looks, but I didn't
come here for..."

Before she
could finish, his lips untiled hers, then ever so slowly he turned
them loose. "I know you didn't, Angel. I know you too well, to
think that. But I'm damned glad you did."

Then passion
flared as he took the weight of her breasts in the cup of his hand
and kissed the hollow underneath. Then back to taunt the peaks, his
tongue waltzing over the tips.

Writhing
beneath him, Angela let her hands seek out his pleasure points,
knowing instinctively where to touch him.

He groaned
aloud, and then his lips found hers once more. He tugged at her
lower lip with his teeth. "Say my name."

"Coop," she
barely managed before he smothered her with a warm wet kiss.

Minutes later
he rose up over her, staring down at her with a wide smile. "You're
like a piece of beautiful china. So fragile I'm afraid I might
break you. But I can't resist you either," he gasped, his eyes
melting over her with an appreciation she didn't quite
understand.

She wasn't
going to analyse this; she just wanted to feel. She giggled
playfully. "Say my name."

"Angel," he
muttered softly as his teeth sank into the softness of an earlobe.
"Angel, my Angel."

She glanced at
him and smiled.

"You don't know
what a turn on that smile of yours is," he whispered.

She laughed
gleefully. "I bet you say that to all the girls. Besides, my mouth
is too big."

"Not for me, it
isn't," he amended, quickly covering it with his own.

Overwhelmed
with emotions she dare not express, she moaned violently as he
began again a slow sensuous lovemaking, his hands following his
lips as he explored every inch of her, touching her, kissing her,
marvelling at her smallness.

But now he was
taking his time, not rushing the inevitable. And he allowed her
time to do the same, letting her feel her freedom, and her power
over him.

"Maybe . . .
you better use protection," she encouraged softly in his ear. When
he raised up to look at her she added. "I tend to get pregnant
pretty easy."

He smiled,
kissed her nose and whispered, "I'll be right back."

And he was.

He began all
over again, never tiring of this glorious foreplay. The giving
outweighed the taking as he slowly, deliberately entered her,
driving her to the heights of ecstasy, rousing her passions,
sending her into some sort of spiralling reaction. Her body quaked
to the tune of his as their love peaked in unison. The turbulence
of their passion swirled about them and they collapsed with
contented satisfaction into each other's arms.

A warm
delicious sleep overcame them. They cuddled into each other.

Before dawn she
awoke, wrapped in the cocoon of his strong arms. She leaned over
him, delighting in the chance to observe him unnoticed. He looked
so relaxed. Like a little boy.

It was a heady
pleasure being able to observe a man without his knowing it. She
purposely took time to gently uncover him and gaze at the length of
him. Her hands itched to touch him, but she dare not. She didn't
want to wake him.

Instead she
sighed and rolled back into the circle of his arms. She closed her
eyes, and savored the moments.

Love was such a
strange commodity.