Faithless Angel (20 page)

His smile died and the hunger in his eyes blazed. His fingertips traced the lace strap of her panties before hooking the edge. She shifted just so and he shimmied the fabric down her legs, pulled the undies free and stuffed them into his pocket.

A twinge of embarrassment went through her as cool air ruffled under her skirt to tease her bare flesh; then Jesse’s fingers followed and she felt only a slow-burning heat that started at the tips of her toes and swept up.

The next thirty minutes passed in a heated blur
for Faith. She wasn’t sure how many more shrimp she ate, how many Jesse fed her, or how many he devoured himself. Enough to make her swallow several times as she watched his perfect lips weave their magic, all the while his fingers danced along her inner thigh. He never went higher than a few inches above her knee, yet he might well have been touching her
there
. Her insides quivered, and a slow ache burned from her nipples to the moist heat between her legs.

Tonight
. His voice echoed the promise in her mind, and Faith was more than eager when Jesse finally clasped her hand and led her from the restaurant.

“Can I drive?” she asked when they reached the motorcycle. “I always did want to learn how to work one of these things.”

“This is not a thing.” One large hand trailed over the handlebars in a loving, reverent caress that actually made Faith jealous. “It’s a seventy-nine Harley. A classic.” His narrowed gaze swept her flushed face. “You really want me to teach you how to drive her?”

Faith nodded with an eagerness she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Be my guest then.” He motioned for her to get on and climbed behind her.

She was a quick study. In ten minutes they were rolling down the gravel drive. In twenty, they were zooming up the dark stretch of Highway 59, headed farther away from the city limits.

The wind whipped at her face, sneaking beneath the edge of her skirt to whip the material back and forth in a sharp motion against her thighs. A shiver crept through her, but it had nothing to do with the cool wind and everything to do with Jesse. He wasn’t
touching her anymore, and she felt the loss as keenly as the quiver in her middle, the moisture between her legs.

Powerful thighs framed hers, his chest a solid wall of promising warmth behind her. If she leaned back just so …

She leaned into him and felt his entire body go stiff.

It was all so confusing. One minute he wanted her. She knew he did. And the next … He was cool, aloof, detached, as if he never meant to touch her again. Like now …

But Faith needed him to touch her. She was so cold by herself. Yet when she looked into his eyes, he warmed her from the inside out. His eyes started the fire burning deep inside her belly, until she wasn’t cold anymore. Or empty. Or lonely.

The motorcycle swerved and panic bolted through her.

“Pay attention.” The deep voice slid into her ears. She wouldn’t have heard him over the rush of wind, but he was so close, his lips grazing her ear. His hands came around her to grab the handlebars. “You have to hold her steady. Like this.” His hands, so strong and purposeful, closed over hers. “Keep your mind on the road.”

But her mind wasn’t on the road. It was on him and the way he seemed to surround her.

“Concentrate.”

“You try concentrating without your underpants.” She wouldn’t have said it under normal circumstances. But with the wind rushing at them, the bike vibrating beneath, she felt a little wild, and reckless.

Laughter rumbled in her ears, thrummed through her senses. “I guess that would make it a little difficult.”

She took a deep breath. “Try next to impossible.”

“Not impossible. Not yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean—” The words stalled in her throat when one of his hands dropped to her bare leg. His fingers splayed against her flesh and slid toward the inside of her knee, working the hem of her skirt up as he went.

Her grip on the gas faltered and the motorcycle jerked before Jesse recovered their moderate speed with his other hand.

“Careful. Remember, it’s all in the hands.” His hand left her knee to force her fingers back to the handlebars; then he dropped his attention back to the spot he’d already set on fire.

“Motorcycles aren’t that much different from people,” he went on, one hand over hers guiding her grip on the gas, his other on her leg. “They’ll do just what you want, as long as you know how to stroke them. If you want a nice, slow, leisurely ride, you keep your touch loose, not too much pressure.” His fingers made lazy circles on the inside of her thigh, and a slow heat seeped through Faith.

“You want a fast, hard ride, you tighten your grip and exert more pressure.” His fingers swept higher, his touch more intense as he moved beneath the edge of her skirt and higher until he was a scant inch shy of the moist heat between her legs. “See the difference?” he murmured against her ear, his deep voice gliding along her nerve endings.

Forget a reply. Her heart pumped much too furiously for her to form any words.

“Faith, are you with me?”

She was ahead of him. Way ahead, she realized when his thumb brushed the center of her desire and sensation speared, hot and jagged, through her body.

They would have run off the road if one of Jesse’s hands hadn’t been resting atop hers, guiding the bike when Faith’s thought processes short-circuited.

“You’re so wet.” The words were more of a groan. “So warm and wet and …” His voice faded into the buzz of wind and excitement that filled her ears.

She tilted her head back, resting it in the curve of his shoulder as she gave over to the ecstasy beating at her sanity and let him take control, of the motorcycle and her aching body.

He slid a finger deep inside her and the air bolted from her lungs. He moved and she did, too, shifting just so, riding his fingers the way the two of them rode the bike, her legs tightening around the powerful machine, her insides tightening around him.

The ride was wonderful, exciting, leaving her breathless and dizzy by the time Jesse steered them over to the side of the road.

The highway was deserted, the night sky an endless stretch of stars above. He was off the bike, pulling her after him before she could blink away the stars spinning in her head. His mouth covered hers, his lips plundering hers in a kiss that sent a flood straight between her already damp thighs.

He backed her up against a nearby tree, his arms braced on either side of her, his lips blazing a trail from her collarbone, down to the vee of her blouse. His fingers made quick work of its buttons until he parted the material, unsnapped her bra, and shoved aside the lacy cups. Then his hot mouth closed over her nipple and a moan parted her lips.

He teased the ripe peak with his tongue before he sucked so long and hard and deep that she thought she would come apart right there in his arms. Again. The shameless way she’d done that day outside in the rain.

It was all so overwhelming. She’d never achieved release before that day. She’d had sex, yes, a few times with her steady boyfriend back in college. But he’d never done this to her, never made her feel a fourth of what Jesse did.

Jesse was different. Jesse gave her …
heaven
.

The word echoed through her head a heartbeat before he pulled away. The wind skittered across her bare flesh, and a heated curse echoed in her ears.

She opened heavy eyes to see him stalk to the edge of the road and rake tense fingers back and forth through his hair.

“Jesse?”

“It’s late,” he finally said, his voice gruff.

“What?” She fought to gather her wits and understand what had just happened.

“We’d better get back.” Without sparing her a glance, he climbed onto the bike, flipped the key, and gunned the engine.

Somehow she knew he meant his coldness to anger her, but Faith was far too wound up, too hot and desperate to feel anything other than a numb shock. Then as the motorcycle engine roared in her ears, reality started to set in, and along with it, a slow-burning rage.

“You lied to me. You’re not even a love-’em-and-leave-’em man. You’re worse. You’re a tease.”

He didn’t respond. He simply sat there. Moonlight sculpted his features, accenting the taut lines of his face, the banked tension gripping his shoulders, his very evident excitement making his jeans bulge.

He wanted her, and she wanted him like she’d never wanted any other man before. Not out of curiosity or a sense of obligation. She just wanted him; it was plain and simple.

Or it would have been if he hadn’t been so set on resisting this thing that flowed between them, this connection, which was so powerful and consuming. So out of this world.

Faith yanked the edges of her blouse together, worked the buttons, and smoothed her skirt down before walking to the motorcycle, her legs rubbery, her body tingling.

Before she could completely seat herself behind him, he pulled onto the highway and headed for town.

The seduction was over. Unfinished. And Faith was still empty and cold and so damned lonely, even though Jesse Savage sat a scant inch in front of her.

So close all she had to do was reach out.

But she wouldn’t. Not again. The next move would be his. That realization brought fresh tears to her eyes because Faith knew in her gut it would be a cold day in hell before Jesse Savage made any move toward her again.

Stupid!

Jesse had lost his sanity. Floating around in that great big void between heaven and hell, light and darkness, he’d gone crazy. That was the only explanation for the way his body ached, throbbed, even though he’d dropped Faith off three hours ago. He had spent the time since riding around, and now walking, doing his damnedest to cool off, to forget.

With distance between them, it shouldn’t be hard. He shouldn’t be so hard. He shouldn’t feel her emotions, her desperation, her desire. It was all her. He knew that.

He glanced down at the prominent bulge in his jeans. Okay, so his own lust had figured in, but it was nothing personal. He’d been floating in the
nothingness, alone and sexually deprived. Of course, when confronted with a female, one who definitely wanted him, he was bound to react. It was a physical reaction. Nothing deeper. He didn’t want Faith Jansen. He just
wanted
, period.

Focus
.

The word whispered through his head like a cool wind blowing over a blistering landscape. Yes, he had to focus.

Then he heard her—a soft sigh here, a giggle there, a deep, relaxed breath…. And he smelled her—a sweet, feminine heat with a touch of wildness. Roses and rain.

The panties he’d slid from her silky smooth legs burned through his pocket, scorched his bare skin.

Yanking the scrap of silk from his jeans, he went to toss the panties into the nearest trash can but his fingers wouldn’t obey. With a violent curse, he shoved the soft material back into his pocket.

Focus
.

He concentrated on taking deep breaths, one after the other as he walked. No thinking, just step after step. By the time he returned to Faith’s House, it was well past midnight. He staggered up to the garage apartment, collapsed into bed, and gave in to the sleep clawing at his brain.

“Headlining today’s newscast is the horrific fire that swept through a downtown apartment complex—”

Faith sat on the living room sofa, the sun beaming through the window, and punched the button on the remote control, flipping past several talk shows.

“… today we’re talking to the sons and daughters of parents who’ve joined deadly religious cults.”

“… did you know your husband was having an affair with your daughter’s boyfriend’s mother?”

“… we’re featuring cross-dressing fathers and sons and the women who love them.”

Okay, so it looked like cooking or music television. What a choice. She settled for the local video channel and turned her attention to the plate of leftover brownies sitting next to her.

A shadow appeared outside her living room window and her hand paused inches shy of the plate.
Her heart lurched forward like a prime race car at the Indy 500. Her gaze darted to the front door, which she’d left unlocked, along with the burglar bars, when she’d gone out to retrieve the newspaper earlier. A disastrous news report blared through her head.

WOMAN FOUND MURDERED IN LIVING ROOM
.

No, make that
STUPID WOMAN WHO FORGOT TO LOCK HER DOOR FOUND MURDERED IN LIVING ROOM
.

She was about to lunge for the dead bolt when the shadow bent down and she heard her lawn mower sputter to life. She crossed the room and stared through the open drapes at Jesse Savage.

Okay, so
STUPID WOMAN FOUND DEAD OF OVERACTIVE IMAGINATION
. He strode back and forth across her lawn, pushing the mower she kept out back in her garage. She drank in every detail, from his dusty black boots and faded jeans to the black T-shirt stretched over his torso. Strong hands gripped the handles and guided the machine. His forearms flexed. Biceps rippled.

Faith swallowed and her attention shifted.

His steps were sure and steady despite the overgrown grass. Thigh muscles bunched. Released. His tush swayed just so….

She swallowed again before forcing her gaze away.

“Relax,” she muttered to herself and forced a calming breath. It wasn’t as if she were some love-starved teenager lusting after the lawn boy. She was a grown woman, and he was just a man.

Okay, so he was more like
man
—six feet plus of carved muscle and enough sex appeal to send Aphrodite herself into a tailspin.

Faith couldn’t help but smile.

Her lips still tingled from his kisses. Her nipples
puckered at the memory of his mouth and tongue, and a flood of heat washed through her at the memory of his hands…. Geez, he had really great hands, and … he liked brownies.

Her gaze lit on the platter sitting on the sofa.

Minutes later, she slipped outside and sat down on the front porch steps to watch him. She had a really great view for all of one minute before he noticed her.