The Naughty Angel Returns (Naughty Angels In Love) (4 page)

She shook her head, troubled that he couldn't read her better than that. Then, gazing at him, she felt her concerns melt away. It just meant that she'd get to teach him all about what made the new and improved Haley tick. Her smile widened as she blushed, and she saw him give her a concerned look in reaction. Great, now he thought she was crazy. Striving for a serene expression, she said, “No way. Don't think you can get rid of me that easily.”

He hesitated. “You might want to reconsider.”

“I won't,” she said, opening her car door and hopping out before he reconsidered his decision to let her stay. He might be getting cold feet, but she wasn't letting the rugged reporter get away. Both their lives depended on it.

She slanted a challenging look his way when he just sat there for a moment. Then he muttered a low curse she couldn't quite make out, and got out of his car. She smiled to herself. The first step was accomplished; she had him. Now she just had to figure out how to seduce him. The night wind blew a sultry breeze over her skin as he stalked up to her, looking irritated, like he thought he was making a mistake.

When he escorted her into the cabin, she looked around, intrigued. It was just the way she'd pictured it from above—hand-scraped hardwood floors he'd refinished himself and comfortable leather furniture in front of a fieldstone fireplace. How she'd like to tumble him down onto the plush rug and do him there! As if he'd guessed her thoughts, he cleared his throat.

“The bedroom's this way,” he said, jerking his head toward the hall.

She followed him down the hall, wanting to see where he slept. When he opened a door and stepped into a room with a double bed, she noticed that it didn't hold his essence. He was putting her in a blasted guest room. Drat! He was playing hard to get. She turned toward him. “If you'd like to interview me again…”

“Tomorrow morning there will be time enough for that,” he said, gazing down at her in a brooding manner.

She leaned closer, unable to help herself, but her feminine pride dictated that he make the next move. The pulse beat heavy in his throat, and his eyes glittered dangerously. Her gaze moved to his mouth. What might he taste like? As the thought crossed her mind, he bent forward to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her hard, and she melted into his embrace. He growled, his hands slicking down her flanks to cup her ass and press her tighter to the hard ridge of his erection. She whimpered into his mouth as her mound pressed against his hard-on, and her whole body quivered.

He flicked his thumbs over her nipples, making them rock hard in an instant as she shuddered against him. Suddenly she was on the brink of the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life, and she couldn't move. He broke the kiss to nuzzle her nape, his cock pressing harder. “Take the leap for me, love,” Crispin said with a growl. “Come for me.”

He thrust deeper, and she came with a helpless cry, letting him support her when she would have fallen. In the afterglow, she sagged against him, his cock still a burning brand against her mound.

He let go of her. “This is crazy.”

“No. Leaving me like this is crazy,” she protested, trying to hold him, but he stepped back, an implacable look back on his hard face.

“There are pajamas in the dresser and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. We'll talk in the morning.”

She frowned at him as he retreated, shutting the door firmly behind him. Rejected! Well, heck, she hadn't turned out to be much of a femme fatale in this incarnation.

Crispin stalked into the master bedroom, hard as a rock and pissed at the world in general and himself in particular. What the hell did he think he was playing at? Rule one of investigative reporting was to stay objective. And even more important, you didn't screw a witness. Yeah…tell that to his throbbing dick. Shedding clothes, he stomped into his bathroom and turned the shower on cold, knowing it probably wouldn't be enough to put him out of his misery. Only the bewitching brunette in the guest room could do that. He groaned, his hand pumping his cock, and came against the tiles. Frustrated, he slapped off the shower.

Rolling into bed ten minutes later, his need temporarily sated, he tried to block out the seductive distraction next door. She needed her space, and he was going to give it to her, even if it killed him. He fell into a restless slumber.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he was jerked awake by a scream. His heart almost stopping, he rolled out of bed and reached for his gun in the bedside table. The fact that he was an expert marksman was one reason he'd felt confident in bringing her to his place. Now he cursed his rash decision. If she died because of him, he'd never forgive himself.

He made his way stealthily to her room, stark naked, able to move quietly thanks to his military training; he hadn't always just been a journalist. Her door was still closed, and he chilled when her heard her let out another whimper. Damn! He pushed back his rage to steady his aim, silently turned the knob, and pushed open the door. Darting through it, weapon drawn, he sagged with relief when he saw that Haley seemed to be alone. He scanned the room to be sure and then focused on his witness.

She was tossing and turning on the bed, her covers rumpled at her feet as if she'd kicked them off. And she hadn't put on the pajamas. He gulped when his hungry gaze took in her natural beauty. He wasn't the type to go for fashion models, but there was something about this siren that drew him to her.

“No, I won't let you hurt him…” she murmured in her sleep, tossing her head.

Shit, he should have expected her to have nightmares after the trauma she'd been through. Some rescuer he was turning out to be. And she was worried about another guy. Of course a beauty like her would have scads of other guys. Why did he even think he might be something special? He leaned forward to gently touch her arm, and she rolled toward him, grasping his hand. He felt a surge of heat go through him to his stupid cock. It started rearing its head as she opened her eyes.

“Crispin,” she said with a smile.

Well, hell, how was he supposed to maintain control when she smiled at him like that? “You were having a nightmare.”

“He was trying to hurt you…” she said, blinking back tears.

“Me,” he said, stunned that her worry had been for him. “You're okay now,” he said, trying to break the spell he was under. “I should let you sleep.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “I'd sleep better if you gave me a good-night kiss.”

He bent to her, knowing he was letting her lead him by his dick, but at the moment he didn't give two rips about journalistic ethics. When his mouth brushed across hers and she sighed, melting under him, he knew he was lost. Unable to censor himself, he covered her, letting her feel his weight and his hunger as his cock butted up against her thigh.

“You're just as big as I knew you'd be,” she said with a pleased giggle and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“And you're just as naughty,” he growled, nipping her earlobe.

“You have no idea how naughty I can be, stud,” she said.

He shuddered against her, wanting to take it slow but knowing he couldn't wait. Especially when she did a little shimmy dance under him, teasing his twitching cock. “Damn it, bad girl, slow down.”

“Next time,” she said, spreading her legs wider.

Crispin growled as he surged into her wet, slick heat, and she cried out, her cunt clamping onto him tight, like she'd never had sex before. Impossible, given her sexy come-on, but then she was a puzzle. “You okay, bad girl?” he asked, pulling back to gaze at her. There was a blush on her face that made him smile, and a startled look in her eyes.

“I'm just a little surprised is all. It's like I'm getting a fresh start with you,” she said with wonder.

That sounded damned good to his foolish ears as he throbbed inside her tight sheath. “My woman,” he growled, reaching down between them to stroke the tight little nubbin of her clit. She let out a gasp, loosening around him, her cream coating his cock, wetting the head of his dick.

“Oh yes, more of that, stud,” she said, rocking against him.

“Be a good girl, or I'll stop,” he said, enjoying the flash of feminine anger in her eyes.

“You're mean,” she said, trembling as she tried to hold still.

He chuckled and continued to stroke her love-slick clit, torturing both of them until her splayed thighs were quivering on the bed and her cunt milked at him with a pre
-orgasmic wave. “Now, bad little angel; come for me now,” he growled, thrusting deep, and she came with a shriek, pulling his orgasm out of him.

Spent, he rolled to his back on the bed and pulled her sated body on top of his. He closed his eyes, dazzled by her response and pained that he couldn't keep her. In the cold light of day she'd decide that a rough-around-the-edges journalist like him wasn't her cup of tea.

Haley lay snuggled and satisfied against Crispin's broad chest. The man had a body that wouldn't quit, and she'd actually managed to seduce the reluctant hero. And the biggest stunner of all was that she'd been a pseudo-virgin. Her sex still puckered like he'd really popped her cherry. It was like all the misdeeds in her past life were washed away, giving her a new beginning. She listened to the reassuring beat of her lover's heart and vowed to do everything she could to protect Crispin, even if it meant relinquishing this bright new existence. She kissed his chest and then shimmied down to lap at his nipple. It sprang to life under her ministrations, and she purred with pleasure.

“Be good,” he said with a chuckle, drawing his hand back to give her ass a sharp smack.

She moaned with excitement as his big palm made contact with her backside. “More,” she whimpered, and he complied, giving her three more spanks.

“Like that, do you?” he asked with a laugh.

It sounded so good to hear him laugh, and her sex quivered with after-spasms. “With you, yeah, I do.”

Chapter Four

Haley came awake with what she knew was a blissfully sated smile on her face. Parts of her body still tingled from the wild night of passion she'd shared with Crispin, and she'd loved every naughty minute of it. She'd known he was into BDSM, but she hadn't known how being spanked by him would make her feel until he'd touched her.

Stifling a yawn, she stretched, then rolled over to reach for Crispin, frowning when her hand touched cold sheets. He'd left her, and she hadn't felt his absence. So much for her new superpowers, she thought. The realization that he'd left her made her eyes fly open, and her gut felt cold when she stared at his empty side of the bed. Max's statement that she had to make him want her, love her, echoed in her mind. From the cool feel of the sheets, she knew he'd been gone for some time.

Trevor! Disappointment morphed to fear in a heartbeat as she considered the possibilities of what might have pulled him away from her. It was more than wounded female pride. There was a killer stalking both of them. Terror acted like a jolt of caffeine, wiping away her hurt feelings, making her heart skip a beat. She clambered out of bed on wobbly legs, ready to go to his rescue. But first she had to scent for danger.

Cautiously opening all her senses, she waited for the wallop that Trevor's crazy, evil aura usually packed. The headache that hit her was immediate but way lighter than the one that'd almost crippled her last night at the hospital. It probably meant that he wasn't next door, but that realization didn't stop her skin from prickling with fear. He was still close enough to stir her evolving psychic powers.

In that instant she realized that Crispin was a sitting duck, if she didn't tell him the truth. The only way to protect him was to tell him the truth. She had to warn Crispin about Trevor, even if it meant breaking Max's rule and being recalled. It was the only way she knew to protect him. And if it meant a trip back to purgatory, so be it. She'd protect her soul mate at any cost.

Coming to that painful decision, she reached for the pajama top Crispin had left out for her. She needed the protection, because she knew the minute he touched her, she'd lose her nerve. Shivering in the cool morning air, she pulled the top over her curves, smiling at last night's memory. At least she'd had the thrill of seducing Crispin with her fuller figure, of him telling her it attracted him. She buttoned up the pajama top to cover her breasts and keep Crispin focused when she spoke to him. The top fell down to mid
-thigh, covering her like a mini-dress. If she ran into Trevor, she wanted to be dressed.

At the thought of the psycho, she shuddered, then scanned the room for a weapon, just in case. A flashlight sat on the dresser. The hefty flashlight might give her the edge she needed against Trevor. From her experiences with him, she knew he didn't use weapons, other than his gloved hands. He'd strangled her with his hands covered in latex gloves, she recalled, her throat still aching a little. That was a huge reason the cops hadn't found any evidence. Fighting back memories that threatened to buckle her knees, she strengthened her resolve, hefted her weapon, and went out to beat him at his own game. If he was around, he was going down.

Quietly sweeping open her bedroom door, she eased out into the hall and held her breath. Nothing happened. The hall was empty. Taking a deep breath, she quieted and tried to tap into her new enhanced senses once more. The nagging headache hit her again, but if anything, it seemed weaker. She concentrated, reaching out for Trevor's toxic spores, and found zilch. Well, crap, that had to be a good thing.