CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I WASN’T GOING TO SLAM THE DOOR, I was going to close it quietly and forcefully, indicating dignified displeasure, but he was already there, his hand yanking it open. “I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

“All right,” I said. “I will.” I started past him, but he caught me, spinning me around and pulling me against him, his strong arms imprisoning me.

I didn’t like being controlled. At least, not really. There was a tiny little shiver of erotic reaction as my body was clamped against his, and for a brief moment I took that pleasure, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I looked up at him, so close, so damnably, deliciously close.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, and bent his head and kissed me.

So, okay, I liked kissing him. I know I should have stayed still, and I tried, I really did. But he cupped my chin, his long fingers gently stroking my face, and his mouth was soft, damp, and really, how could I resist? Because the brutal truth was, I felt more for him than I’d felt for anyone in my entire life. He was mine, even if I was afraid he still wanted to wiggle out of it. He was mine.

I softened against him, and he released my wrists, knowing I wasn’t going to hit him. I slid my arms around his waist, pulling him closer, and rose on my toes so that I could reach him better, so that I could press my breasts against his hard chest, so I could sink into the heat of him.

He picked me up effortlessly. Yes, I knew he was supernaturally strong, but I still loved it, loved feeling delicate and weightless when I’d always felt clumsy. He thought I was luscious. I knew that, even as my doubts tried to discount it. He thought my soft, rounded body was irresistibly erotic. And I felt my blood heat, flowing through me like a river of pleasure; I wanted his touch, wanted his mouth on me, wanted everything.

He carried me into the bedroom. The light was muted through the bank of windows, and the awful stench was gone. Instead it smelled like cinnamon and spice, like Raziel’s warm flesh and something underneath it, something hot and rich. He set me down on the bed, and this time I didn’t try to jump up again, didn’t try to argue or to fight, with his hands on me, unfastening the white tunic and pulling it over my head. He kissed my mouth, he kissed the swell of my breasts above the lacy bra, he let his tongue dance across my lace-covered nipple before fastening his mouth on it. I let out a quiet moan of delight.

I’d never known my breasts were so sensitive. When other men had touched them it seemed simply part of the process, but when Raziel put his mouth on me—

He lifted his head, and his eyes were dark and glittery. “Stop thinking about other men,” he said, his voice close to a growl. I wondered if I was supposed to be afraid of him.

“No,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

I caught the strain of guilt and regret. He’d thrown me away from Tamlel, and I’d been knocked unconscious. I said nothing. His deep sorrow over what had been an accident was enough to assure me that I was safe. Whatever rage lived inside him, and I could feel it simmering, it would never be turned on me. He pushed me back on the bed and I went, letting my eyes drift closed as he pulled the loose white pants off. He took the underwear as well, a little sooner than I was comfortable with, and flicked off the bra with a practiced hand. Well, of course he was practiced—he’d had thousands of years—

“They’ve only had bras for the last hundred years,” he murmured against my skin, and his voice was thick with longing.

“Stop reading my mind,” I protested, though my languorous voice was far from harsh.

“It’s half the fun,” he said, and I felt his mouth on my stomach, moving downward. I knew where he was going, and I knew I shouldn’t mind. He thought he’d be doing something nice for me, when in actuality it had always left me unmoved. I sort of hated having him go to all that effort when I didn’t particularly like it, but I didn’t want to discourage him—

“You’ll like it,” he said, his long hands on my thighs, parting them, and he put his mouth on me, his tongue, and while I was telling myself to humor him the first shiver of reaction hit me by surprise.

I squeaked, and I could sense his amusement, but he didn’t stop what he was doing, thank God, and I reached down and threaded my fingers through his hair, caressing him as he let his tongue flick across my clitoris. I let out a low, mewling noise, arching my hips, and his hands were there as well, long fingers sliding inside me, a gently thrusting promise of things to come, as his tongue worked its wicked magic. And then he used his teeth, gently, and I exploded.

Oh, he was a very bad man. He wouldn’t let me savor the first rush of climax; instead he had to draw it out, to keep touching me, licking me, biting me, so that wave after wave swept over me and my body went rigid, every nerve ending spiking, and I think I must have cried out, begging him to let me alone, begging him not to stop, begging him . . .

I collapsed against the bed, breathless, trying to control the sobs that were in my throat. He wiped his mouth on the sheet and moved up beside me, still fully dressed, and I wanted to put my hands on him, strip the clothing away, but for the moment I couldn’t move.

He laughed, a soft, enticing sound. “That’s all right. I know how to undress myself.” He stripped off the black T-shirt, then reached for his jeans.

He was so fucking beautiful. But then, angels were supposed to be, weren’t they? Long, graceful limbs, beautiful pale skin stretched over taut muscles.

He was already erect, and I wanted to touch him, wanted my mouth on him where I’d never put my mouth on anyone.

The last stray shudders were finally ebbing away, but I still felt weak, exhausted, strangely on the edge of tears when I never cried. “Take your time,” he said, stretching out beside me, letting his hand trace the plumpness of my breast. “We’re not in any hurry.”

“Maybe you’re not,” I managed to mutter. “You’re eternal. I’m not.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The playful expression on his face vanished, and darkness closed down. He started to pull away, but I shook off the last of my malaise and grabbed his arm, drawing him back. “Look, it’s just me. There’s no need to go all broody about it. It’s not like I’m the great love of your life.”

I could feel his anger again, but this time it didn’t frighten me. He caught me, rolling me underneath him. “You idiot,” he said. “Don’t you understand anything about this?”

“That you go through women every century or so? Sure, I get it. And you said Azazel and Sarah were an anomaly, so I assume once I hit my forties or fifties you’ll be turning your attentions elsewhere, and—”

“You don’t know anything,” he said brutally. “We’re bound together, you and I. It’s not casual, it’s not until you grow old. It’s not ‘just you.’ It is you. Why do you think I’ve fought it so hard? From now on, you’re the most important thing in my life, whether I want it that way or not.”