Angel of Desire (19 page)

SHADE KISSED RACHEL. Softly, gently, without demand, holding her as if she were the most fragile thing on earth. More breakable than the finest Irish crystal. More delicate than a hummingbird egg. He kissed her with a tenderness he'd never known he possessed, with a depth of emotion he'd never imagined himself capable of feeling.

And even as he deepened the kiss, his lips remained as soft as snowflakes. Rachel sighed with pure pleasure, parting her lips to invite (he tender invasion of his tongue.

Somewhere, deep in the misty reaches of her mind, a voice—was it her own, or was it Joshua's?—warned her that what she was doing, what she was about to do, was against every tenet by which she'd been bound for all these years. But Rachel stubbornly ignored it.

Her thoughts, her body, her entire world had compressed to nothing but shimmering sensations. Her bedazzled mind was only aware of the exquisite movement of his mouth on hers, the hypnotizing touch of his hands moving up and down her back, the glorious feel of his firm male body responding to her closeness. The heavenly kiss went on and on and on. A deep-seated instinct she had not even known she possessed had her lips parting when his did. Their tongues touched.

Rachel would not have uttered a single word of complaint if it had lasted an eternity. Warmth flowed through her veins like summer sunshine, her body was leaning into his, melting irresistibly.

When Shade felt the kiss quickly drifting from pleasure to passion, he denied his own hunger and slowed the pace, determined, after all the waiting, to make this last.

Dragging his mouth away from her sweet, pliant one, he kissed first one satiny cheek, then the other. Then her eyelids. The fragrant hair at her temples.

"Lord, you are exquisite." His lips lingered at her earlobe, her throat. When his tongue created a hot wet swath along the length of her neck, she moaned softly, thrust her fingers into his dark hair and urged his mouth back to hers.

"Please." The heat within her was building, passion was threatening to flood her senses. "I need you."

Long ago, after days of torture, she'd faced her accusers and sworn never to plead for mercy from any mortal man. Three hundred years later, her oath was recklessly abandoned. Rachel would have dropped to her knees, if necessary, to beg Shade to end this exquisite torment.

What made such admission palatable was that she knew he would be willing to make the same sacrifice.

Even knowing the depth of his own feelings, which he'd been fighting against from the beginning, Rachel was unprepared for Shade's next move.

He cupped her flushed face in wide strong hands that were suspiciously unsteady. "And I need you."

His expression, the depth of emotion in his stormy green eyes told Rachel that he was not talking about a mere physical craving.

Her still-very-human heart lurched at those words, uttered so roughly, as if jerked unwillingly from between his harshly set lips.

She placed her trembling hand atop his. "I know," she whispered. Her eyes were wide and open and brimming with love.

Muttering a sound that could have been a curse or a prayer, he pulled her against him. This time the kiss was raw and powerful, shaking her to the core. Her knees weakened and, if he hadn't chosen that moment to scoop her into his arms, Rachel wasn't certain she could have continued to stand.

It was only a few feet to the bed. To Shade, the journey seemed to take a lifetime. Against every vestige of common sense he possessed, against all reason, he was desperate for this woman.

As he'd risked his life, walking through the dark and dangerous streets, sticking closely to the edges of buildings, moving through the night like a shadow, he'd tried, without any success, to understand what witchcraft Rachel Parrish possessed. What spell had she concocted that had rendered him so utterly and fatalistically defenseless against her feminine charms?

The answer to those questions had, as everything about Rachel, remained a mystery. The woman was a mystery inside a puzzle inside an enigma.

Now, as he lowered her to the mattress, Shade found himself wondering whether this craving would be satisfied after he'd finally had her. As it so often had with other women.

He stood beside the bed and began to unbutton his shirt without taking his eyes from her. She was lying on her back, gazing up at him with a combination of anticipation, trust and something else.

Fear? No, Shade concluded. Not fear. Nor apprehension. But something very close.

Anxiety? Perhaps.

Her next words confirmed his thoughts. "I don't know what to do." Her soft voice curled around him like smoke. Warmed him like good Napoleon brandy on a cold winter's night. "How to please you."

He had to smile at that. She was so grave. So earnest. So sweet. "You please me." The mattress sighed as he sat down beside her. His mouth brushed hers, at first lightly, as if seeking to reassure. Then deeper, to seduce.

Her hands slid inside his open shirt, pressing against his chest, skimming over the rugged planes of muscled flesh. Putting aside her momentary fears that Shade would find her lovemaking skills disappointing, and going solely on instinct, she pressed her lips against that hard male flesh, rewarded when he drew in a sharp breath.

Needing to touch her, as she did him, Shade untied the sash of the robe and folded the ivory silk back. Rather than the bare flesh he'd been expecting, he discovered a lacy sea-foam teddy so sheer it could have been spun from cobwebs.

When she'd first taken the scanty lingerie from its bed of white tissue paper, Rachel had been appalled at the thought of wearing anything so blatantly seductive.

But that was then. And this was now. Seeing the appreciation in Shade's green eyes, Rachel knew she'd made the right decision to throw away her whalebone corset.

"Remind me to thank Liz as soon as we get back to D.C" Shade's voice was rough. "She's one helluva shopper."

For one moment, Rachel was tempted to tell Shade the truth, that she wouldn't be returning to Washington with him. But then his mouth was on her breast and his tongue was dampening the pale green lace, creating tiny prick points of need along her skin. Thoughts spiraled away.

His fingers caressed, his mouth roamed. He kissed her breasts, her nipples. His lips created sparks along the ridge of her collarbone, down her rib cage. His mouth was hot, his hands possessive.

When he placed his palm against her mound, the heat inside her flamed so hot she was amazed the silk didn't melt. She felt a flood of moisture and gasped at the sheer pleasure of it. Her hips rose involuntarily, seeking more of this tender torment. Seeking relief.

"Shade." She tried to reach for him but her arms felt strangely heavy. "I feel… I need… Oh!" She gasped as his tongue wetly trailed down her backbone.

"Too soon." His mouth left off creating havoc at the base of her spine and returned to her parted lips. "Much, much, too soon."

He whisked the lacy teddy away, treating each bit of newly exposed flesh to his tender touch, his hot, stinging kisses. Warmth like nothing she'd ever known or could have ever imagined flowed through her as she closed her eyes and succumbed to these thrilling, unfamiliar sensations.

He murmured to her—romantic endearments, tender reassurances, impossible promises—as he kissed her throat, her ankles, the backs of her knees, the flesh she'd never known was so exquisitely sensitive. His lips and hands were everywhere, tasting, touching, tempting, arousing by irresistible degrees.

She murmured a ragged protest when he released her and left the bed to take off his own clothes. He had extremely broad shoulders and strong sinewy arms. His well-muscled chest, dusted lightly with ebony hair, gleamed bronze in the flickering candlelight.

Although it was unheard of in her day for a well-bred woman to even think of looking at a nude man, Rachel found herself unable to resist. Knowing it was wrong, knowing that such scandalous behavior was suitable more to a wanton hussy than a properly serene-minded guardian angel, she could not prevent her eyes from following that intriguing arrowing of hair downward, over his flat stomach, past the ugly scar she knew was the result of a burst appendix while he'd been camped out in the jungles of Cambodia searching for the Khmer Rouge, then lower still.

Just the sight of him took Rachel's breath away. His sex stirred with arousal, growing before her fascinated gaze.

Shade watched Rachel watching him and was reminded once again of her innocence. That she'd never seen a naked male was obvious. It was equally obvious that she was intrigued by what she was seeing.

Shade knew he was about to set the scene for the man who would come after him. The man who could offer Rachel the happily-ever-after life she deserved.

Shade hated that paragon of masculine domesticity without even knowing him. He hated the idea of Rachel looking up at any other man with such uncensored love and trust. He detested the thought of any other man kissing her, touching her, experiencing her generosity and her warmth.

And he damn well loathed the idea of any other man hearing her breathless little cries as he took her over the edge.

Shade was determined to make Rachel's first experience special. And not solely for the obvious reasons. What he wanted to do, he realized, knowing the idea to be entirely selfish and horrendously chauvinistic, what he
intended
to do was to claim Rachel as his own.

He would brand her with his mouth, his hands, so that whenever any other male dared touch her, she would feel Shade's touch instead. And if any lips ever attempted to drink from her soft sweet ones, the taste of Shade Blackstone would come between them. And when she attempted to make love to that faceless, nameless male lurking somewhere in the murky shadows of her future, Rachel would find her bed—and her body—already claimed by Shade's presence.

He returned to the bed, pulling her to him. Caught up in feelings older than the forces that had formed their universe, Rachel clung to Shade, submitting joyously to whatever he asked, allowing him to take her wherever he would.

Rachel reveled in the feathery touch of his fingers trailing through the honey-hued nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs, the tug of his teeth on a nipple, the strength of his long legs as they tangled seductively with hers.

She'd always been a realist, not given to romantic, impossible dreams. But now, for this suspended, perfect moment in time, she allowed herself to dream.

When he could take no more, when he could no longer deny the fire surging in his own loins, Shade shifted to lie on top of her, careful not to crush her.

She was so sweet. So innocent. Shade knew he didn't deserve Rachel, but that didn't stop him from wanting her. From needing her. From loving her. His lips touched hers in a soft, tender benediction as he reached between their bodies and stroked her clitoris. Damp heat flowed over his fingers. He took his shaft in his own hand and rubbed it against the ultrasensitive nub of flesh.

"I don't want to hurt you."

Her eyes fluttered open. Her hands, which had been journeying up and down his back, slowed their feverish pace. The tension inside her built as he ever so gently slipped inside her. Just barely, but enough to send her already tumultuous senses soaring.

"You could never hurt me, Shade."

When he slowly withdrew, she moaned. It was a small ragged sound, from deep in her throat.

And then, blessedly, he was back, entering her by inches, pleasuring her beyond words. "Never." Her hands framed his face; her smile was nothing short of beatific. Once again Shade was reminded of angels; once again he almost remembered where they'd met before.

The memory shimmered just out of reach, so close Shade felt as if he could reach out and touch it.

He lowered his head, touching his lips to hers as he withdrew, and then returned, repeating the tantalizing strokes until every pore in her body was screaming for release. It was torment. It was paradise.

His movements, designed to coax her to orgasm, were arousing Shade beyond anything he'd ever known. He tried to concentrate on that elusive memory, struggled to recall another time when she'd smiled at him in just that way, but his throbbing body took over his mind and he surged the rest of the way into her.

A pain stabbed into Shade as he entered her, first sharp, then sweet. She was so hot and wet and tight, he almost came instantly. Grabbing onto her hips, he held himself absolutely rigid, allowing her time to adjust to the unfamiliar invasion of her body, allowing him time to garner whatever tattered remnants remained of his self-control.

And then he began to move, withdrawing almost all the way, then returning even deeper. After the first shuddering shock, Rachel began to move, as well. Her short unpainted fingernails dug into the flesh of his back, her legs wrapped around his lean hips as she clasped him tighter, begging him with words and motions not to stop now. Not to leave her on this terrifying, thrilling precipice.

He felt her hot, ragged breath against his neck. Felt the sting of her nails, the straining, taut muscles of her thighs. Her body was pulsing around him, massaging his burning sex as they moved with a shared harmony that was heartbreakingly painful in its perfection.

They took each other higher and higher. Together, they crested the shimmering peak, soaring for a thrillingly long time. Finally, hands clasped, lips touching, they drifted back to earth, where their earlier urgency was replaced by a sweetness all its own.

They lay that way for a long, silent time, their arms, legs and hearts entwined. "I love you." Shade's words, spoken solemnly in the stillness of the room, were the answer to all Rachel's unspoken prayers. They brought more joy than she ever could have believed possible. And more pain.

"And I love you," she whispered.

Her tone did not reveal the pleasure Shade would have expected. He glanced down, stricken by the sheen of tears brightening her remarkable silver eyes. "You don't sound all that happy."

It wasn't that there wouldn't be problems, Shade admitted. But they were two intelligent, capable individuals . Surely they could work out whatever glitches such an abrupt change in agenda might present.