Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark) (23 page)

“And he didn’t try to take you with him?”

“No.”

“Astounding.” Zacharel’s gaze slipped over her, trying to see past the covers to the succulent curves that rested underneath.
Do not go there. She is tired, stressed, and it is far too soon.

He hopped to his feet and stalked to the bathroom. There, he drew a hot bath, making sure to pour some of the hotel’s bath soap into the water. Wildflower-scented steam soon curled through the air. She’d already taken a shower, but humans enjoyed baths for more than cleaning themselves, yes? He placed a towel next to the tub and nodded, satisfied everything was in order.

In the room, he was careful not to look too closely at Annabelle. He would mentally strip her, would imagine her luxuriating inside the bath, and then he would pounce, giving life to her earlier worry.

“The bath is ready for you.”

Covers rustled. “For
me?
”

“Of course. I certainly do not want to smell like flowers.”

“My skin is probably going to peel off me after all this water, but a bath is simply irresistible considering I haven’t had one in four years!” She was on her feet and racing past him in a snap. The door closed and locked behind her. He remained where he was, torturing himself as sounds of falling clothing, splashing water and moans of pleasure blended.

If he’d wanted her before, he
really
wanted her now. He wanted her naked and wet and pliant and eager. How long before her desire for him returned? How long before she trusted him again? Oh, she trusted him on some level, or she wouldn’t be here with him. But sex, as he was learning, required more.

When at last she emerged, she was more delectably fragrant than before and dressed in the uniform.

“Thank you so much,” she breathed, flinging herself back on the bed. She twisted around to face him, her skin dewy and flushed, alive with health. The otherworldly blue of her eyes glistened like melting ice in the summer sun, an image made all the stronger because of her new morning-meadow scent. “I had no idea how much I needed that.”

Beneath the hunger for her was a satisfaction that his actions had brought her to this point: relaxed, refreshed and delighted.

“Have you been standing there the whole time?” she asked.

A stiff nod.

“But I was in there for over an hour.”

He knew. He’d done nothing but count the seconds. There were three thousand, six hundred seconds in an hour, and she’d spent three thousand, seven hundred and four seconds in there.

She paused, nibbling on her bottom lip as he’d noticed she was prone to do. It was an action that betrayed a sense of nervousness. He couldn’t help but stare. He wanted his own lips on her, soothing whatever wounds she caused.

“Are you thinking about kissing me?” she asked.

“I am, yes,” he said.

She gulped. “I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this, after I told myself—and you!—that I never would. But you’re being such a sweetheart that I can’t seem to help myself.”

Every muscle in his body tensed. “You mean…?”

“Yeah. I mean. I have a question for you first.”

“Ask.” Anything.

“Will you let me…well, tie you up?”

His blood, already heating, went molten. “If you wish, but you should know that no chains can hold me. I would be bound simply to ease your mind.”

“Well, it’s not really easing to know you could bust free!” A moment later, her shoulders slumped against the mound of pillows. “I wouldn’t be able to do it, anyway.”

He barely managed to cut off his roar of denial. “Kiss me?”

“No, bind you.”

“Because you hated being bound yourself.” A statement, not a question. He was learning her.

“Exactly.” There was an eternity of silence before she gave a soft sigh. “But okay, all right. We can try the kissing thing again. But I’m in charge,” she rushed out. “You have to do what I tell you, when I tell you.”

Elation sprang through the fissure still growing in his chest, followed quickly by determination. He would get this right. He
had
to get this right. She wouldn’t give him another chance. “I will not disappoint you.”

A tremor moved through her.

A tremor of apprehension? Though every cell he possessed screamed to close the distance between them, he rocked back on his heels, staying in place, giving her time to come to grips with what would soon happen. “What convinced you?”

Her gaze lowered and she whispered, “The bath. I was reclining in the tub, loving the warmth of the water, but all I could think about was the fact that I was alone. I imagined what it would be like if you were in there with me, washing my hair, rubbing my shoulders. Just…I don’t know, holding me close.”

The fantasy was admitted with so much longing he could restrain himself no longer.

Zacharel approached the bed. She watched him, licked her lips, flattened her hands on the bed, then on her stomach, then on the bed again, as if she couldn’t decide which was best. He placed one knee on the mattress, leaned forward. Her breathing quickened.
Slow and easy
. He crawled over her, gently clasped her by the waist and rolled them both, flaring his wings as he placed
her
on top of
him
. She gasped at the swiftness of his motions, but she didn’t bolt away. However, she did sit up, refusing to recline against him.

He lay there, waiting, thinking she would relax. Her eyes were closed, the long length of her lashes casting spiky shadows over her cheeks. With every second that passed, however, she tensed a little more.

“Annabelle.”

“Yes.”

“Look at me,” he said.

Those lids squeezed tight. “No.”

“Annabelle. Please.”

“
Now
you say please?”

“Annabelle.”

“My eyes,” she whispered. “You hate the taint of them.”

He belonged in the depths of hell for saying such a thing. “They are lovely.”

“But you said—”

“A mistake. Difficult as it is to imagine, I make them, too.”

“All right.” A pause, then her lids parted, and those beautiful blues were peering at him.

“Thank you.”

At last she settled against him, and he felt her mouth curl into a grin. “Welcome.”

“I’m going to put my arms around you,” he said. When she offered no protest, he fit action to word.

A delicate sigh left her. “So…what are we doing?”

“Taking a moment to enjoy each other.” He traced his fingers along the ridges of her spine. “At least, I am. Are you?”

“Yes. I— Your heart is pounding,” she said, sounding surprised. Her ear rested directly over the pounding beat.

“Only you have that effect on me.”

“Well, we’re even, then.”

Minutes passed, perhaps hours. Every new second was a rapturous torture. He breathed her in, happily drowning in her heat, and he vowed to stay like this all night if that was what she preferred—but to his delight she began to move against him, urging him to do…something. The tips of her fingers traced the ridge of his navel.

“Zacharel?”

He released her to reach up and grab the headboard. “I will not let go.” Not this time, no matter how badly he wanted to touch her. “You will control everything, just as you wished.”

Still she hesitated.

“I mean it. Even if I break the bed apart, I will not let go of this railing. Not until you tell me otherwise.”

“You are so on your A game right now.” She lifted to her knees, straddled his waist and settled against him. The exquisite pleasure-pain of the sensation had him sucking in a breath.

If only he could will his robe away…

Down, down she leaned.

“Kiss,” she said. Her mouth claimed his, her tongue sliding past his teeth to duel with his tongue. And oh, the sweetness of her taste intoxicated him far more than anything else.

For a long while, she alternated between kissing him and pausing to look at him, as if judging his control. Whatever she saw in his expression always managed to reassure her, because she would dive back in for another helping.

He wasn’t sure how he managed to hide the force of his arousal from her. He felt like a rubber band pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment. What could he do to propel her to that point? Move against her, as she had moved against him?

He shifted slightly, brushing against her—but that wasn’t nearly enough, and merely fueled his desire all the more. But…a groan escaped her, and then, oh, finally, blessedly
then,
she stopped taking time to look at him, stopped searching his face, and gave him a kiss that seared his soul, her mind seemingly as lost as his was.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, angling his head for deeper, better contact. On and on this new, hotter kiss continued, until they were biting at each other, moaning and groaning and saying incoherent things. He wanted more, so much more, and his muscles bunched and knotted from the strain of holding back.

Then she began to rock against him, her entire body rubbing, rubbing, rubbing against his. He was desperate to get closer to her, as close as a man could be with a woman. Wanted it, needed it so badly.

“Zacharel, I want… I need…”

Exactly want he wanted and needed, he prayed. “Anything. Name it, and I will give it to you.”

“Roll to your side.”

He obeyed in an instant, so that they were face-to-face, body-to-body. His every exhalation blended with her every inhalation, mixing their breath, making them one, even in so small a way.

“Your hands…on me,” she commanded. “But only if you want to. I mean, we can stop if you’d—”

“No stopping,” he rushed out, then forced himself to say more slowly, “I want. I do. More than anything. But I’m not in a hurry.” On some level—probably. “I’ll go nice and easy.” He would force himself.

“Okay, yes. Please. Slow.”

He released only one hand from captivity to lift the hem of her shirt. Her skin was a mesmerizing bronze, and his a lighter gold; it was such a delicious contrast, inflaming the spark of his desire to yet another feverish degree.

“You are so beautiful, Annabelle.”

“Really?”

Yes, oh, yes. “Your mind…”

“Is on you, only you. Or were you trying to tell me how beautiful my mind is?” she asked with a little giggle.

A pleasant blend of relief and satisfaction soared through him. He had made her laugh, in bed. “What do you want me to do?”

“What are
you
wanting to do?” she breathed.

Strip himself, strip her, touch, taste, consume, learn, know, nothing held back—things she wasn’t ready for.
Steady
.

“I will put my hands on you, as you demanded.” He cupped her breast, paused, waiting for her reaction. She moaned at the pleasure, thrilling him. His hand began to burn, burn so deliciously, hotter than the rest of him as he kneaded her.