Page 38 of Angel's Conquest
The relief was short-lived, however, and soon, she was gripping anything she could to make the aching parts of the rest of her ease. Shoulders, biceps, strong hips. She’d have torn out a chunk of the stone wall if he hadn’t caught up her hands and settled them on the sides of his waist.
Did the male have a death wish? Surely, she would rip out whole parts of him if he kept this up. Weren’t his kidneys not far from her fingers?
But she got the sense there was something more she should be seeking. Something else she should be asking for.
Instinctively, she curled her fingers into the waistband of his khakis and tugged.
The maneuver pulled his mouth and hand free of her breasts and miraculously, as if his head was tied to a string connected to her searching fingers, lured him lower down her stomach. What a thrill to have such power over a male! Even more thrilling, she learned, was the delectable breadcrumbs trail he left of soft, insistent kisses on top of her blouse covering her abdomen, as if he was worried about losing his way back to her breasts.
Impossible, but who was she to argue?
But oh God, the ache! She squirmed, near to thrashing. It was a panic of a different sort and not one she’d ever experienced. She’d had a lover or two before, though more to satisfy her curiosity than anything else. Her trysts had been short, sweaty, and over long before any sort of enjoyment had been achieved on her part.
None had been like this. Never like this.
“I know, princess,” he said. Then, right when his lips were millimeters away from the laces of her trousers, he levered his head up and asked, “Permit me?”
“Permit you to do what?”
That self-satisfied smirk returned just for her. “To make you feel better.”
Oh, hell. She was all in for it now, wasn’t she? Her spontaneity had set up shop, and it had no intention of moving until it was satisfied.
Until she was satisfied.
“Yes,” she gasped. “I permit you.”
If she’d known how fast an injured angel could move, she’d have chosen her words more carefully. No sooner had the final word left her tongue than his hands had shoved her trousers down to her thighs. If her heart had thought itself a wild mare who had broken free before, it had nothing on what the sight of Bronze’s mouth descending to her core would do to it.
Mumbles came next, or perhaps sighs. More gasping, for sure, though her brain hadn’t the appropriate span of higher reasoning in that moment to discern between them. All she could focus on was the brush of Bronze’s goatee against her inner thighs and the passionate placement of tender kisses in a place that she didn’t even think could process tenderness.
She trembled further at his touch, both at the lapping of his lips and the passionate, masterful presses of his palm, which had found its way back to her breasts. And then the helplessness set in as a foreign wave of pleasure bumped further against her shores.
“Bronze,” she whimpered. “What’s happening? What are you doing to me?”
“Pleasing you,” he said against her core as he gripped her on either side of her rib cage and slid her down farther to him, exposing more of her to his mouth.
Farther toward an exquisite feeling and what she irrevocably knew would be a total and complete loss of control.
Heat blazed like fire over her skin, claiming her body in a searing tsunami that assaulted every available sense. A cry erupted. Was that her voice? The trill shattered whatever logic she thought she possessed into fleeting specks of starlight across an eternal universe. Energy whipped her left and right, in sync with Bronze’s slowing tongue and careful calmness. And just when she didn’t think her body had any more aftershocks left in it, a final swipe and secret kiss pulled one last greedy jerk out of her.
She had no control over what happened next. No inkling of what it would mean for her skin to scatter from her flesh and reassemble in the warm embrace of a male who murmured light hushes up her thighs and still tracked reassuring tender kisses across her quivering abdomen. Her breaths barely had a chance to return to a steady rhythm before he placed a parting kiss over her navel and covered her with a blanket.
Then, strangely, he settled in beside her, tucking her against his warm chest but still cradling her face away from him slightly. “One day, princess, we’re going to finally have a discussion about the lack of lights and electricity here because it’s absolutely killing me that I can’t see you the way I want to right now.”
“Electricity?” Oh, that’s right. Before he nearly sent her to the Moon Mother herself, he had mentioned something about that, hadn’t he? “You’re correct. There’s no electricity here. Certain things don’t?—”
Heavy footsteps pounded through the hall outside their suite. “Lady? Are you down here?”
Shit! Clara turned, forced her hands over Bronze’s mouth, and held him as still as she could.
“No sign of her,” muttered a frustrated male, whose worried tenor tones alerted her as belonging to Pascal. “I’ll search the gardens, then. Broderick, talk to the housekeeper and have the staff see to it that Lord Raff’s rooms are ready.”
“Sir? But he’s not due until tomorrow.”
Cold dread turned Clara’s already misted skin clammier.
“The lord will be arriving earlier than expected, I’m afraid. A messenger just informed the king that he’ll be here within the hour.”