Do Not Disturb (12 page)

Lulled by a full stomach, she smiled at him.

“We forgot something,” he said, his voice soft.

She gave him a lazy smile. “What's that?”

He reached out with both hands, fisting them into her hair to draw her forward. Her reflexes had been lulled too, because they didn't even protest.

“Dessert,” he said against her mouth.

Yes, dessert,
Cooper thought, as Angel's mouth softened beneath his. She tasted hot and sweet and like something he didn't want to skip. Not tonight.

He lifted his head to catch his breath. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips already reddened by his. She'd been driving him nuts during the last week, coming and going from the retreat in her city dresses and city skirts, looking purposeful—God, how he envied her purposefulness. And looking pretty. Looking so damn pretty.

He'd stayed away from her, telling himself to accept his monklike existence and refusing to indulge in fantasies of laying slabs of beef jerky at her high-heeled feet. But hell, he'd given up nicotine, caffeine, and the adrenaline of his work. Surely that proved he had enough control over his appetites to safely allow himself a longer taste of her.

“Come here,” he said, drawing his fingers through her hair. “Come over here to me.”

“To you,” she echoed, blinking slowly.

“Here, to me.” He wouldn't risk anywhere more comfortable, because he was giving himself permission for just a taste, after all. Her hand lay limply on the tabletop, so he took it and tugged. “To me, honey.”

Even as she rose, a wrinkle appeared between her golden, feathery eyebrows. “I don't know if this is a good idea….”

“Don't worry about that,” he said, knowing he would only go so far and no further. “Remember, just this once you're letting me take care of you.”

With a little sigh, she allowed him to draw her down onto his lap. Even after he'd fed her, she weighed nothing, and her fragrant hair was just more weight-lessness that tickled his chin. For a moment he was still, merely enjoying the warmth of her in his arms. He breathed in and out steadily, keenly aware of the moment. Of living in this warm, woman-in-his-arms moment.

It was almost enough.

But then she shifted and the slinky skirt she was wearing edged up on her knees. His pulse jumped and he ran his hand down her thigh to find her bare skin.

Her breath caught and she looked up, and then he had to kiss her. He intended to take it slow, to give himself plenty of time to enjoy her before drawing the interlude to a close. But Angel was the very devil of a temptation. Her mouth opened beneath his, and he had to steel himself not to give in and plunge inside. In
stead, he kissed the corners, the bow of her upper lip, the tender center of the bottom one.

She moaned, but he shut his ears to the demand in the sound and repeated the baby kisses, lingering on that bottom lip, then drawing it between his to suck. His hand was cupping one of her bare knees, and as he sucked more strongly, her other knee clamped tight, trapping his fingers between her legs. Oh, she liked that.

But she wanted more, he knew it, because her fingers speared through his hair, her nails scraping erotically against his scalp. She drew his head closer and he surrendered, releasing her lower lip to slide his tongue into her mouth.

Now they both moaned.

Reminding himself he was supposed to go slow, that he was supposed to savor the little he was going to have of her, he rubbed his tongue against hers, then lifted his head.

“No.” Her fingernails bit into his scalp.

He smiled. “I'll do it again, don't worry.”

“I'm not
worrying
.” Apparently even tough girls could sulk.

He laughed, then fisted his hand in her hair and drew back her head. “You have the prettiest neck,” he said, nuzzling along the line of her jaw, then licking toward her pulsepoint. “I've been wanting to taste it since the day we met.”

“Mmm.” Her eyes closed.

He smiled against her skin, taking his time to reacquaint himself with female flesh, how smooth it was,
how his attention warmed it, how that warmth deepened the scent of enticing, feminine perfume. He explored Angel's throat until his chin brushed the little ruffle around the top edge of the lacy sleeveless top she wore. Lifting his head, he tried not to notice the line of buttons that ran toward her waist.

That way led to disaster.

He'd learned a lot about settling for less in the past year. Though he was still working on total acceptance, he was accustomed to paring down his expectations. So he knew this would have to do. Little touches, little tastes, just enough to keep the hunger at bay and not enough to make him greedy for more.

He kissed her bare shoulder, her chin, then allowed himself her lips again. Angel instantly widened her mouth, but instead of taking all that was offered, he just dipped inside.

Little touches, little tastes
. Satisfied he was under control, he ventured a bit farther.

Then Angel sucked on his tongue.

He groaned. Oh God. God.
Good good good
.

As her mouth was taking its pleasure, her hand slid down his chest. He didn't have the will to stop her from finding her way beneath his shirt. His stomach muscles jumped as her warm hand slid along his ribs. He tried to ignore the way his heart jumped too.

But the unsettling sensation made him desperate to distract her, so he covered one of her breasts with his palm. She froze, then her mouth released his. Gazes locked, they stared at each other. Both of them were breathing hard, and each of her quick inhales pushed her soft flesh into his hand.

Then
her
hand moved, sliding down his bare back, around his ribs toward his chest. His mouth dried. He knew where she was heading. Tit for tat.

He might have laughed at his own bad pun if he weren't so afraid she'd have her way. Shifting his fingers across the lace of her top, he unfastened the first button.

Thank God, once again she froze.

That's when he knew what he had to do. If she didn't move, if
he
only touched
her,
he would survive this pleasure. Steadying his breath and ordering himself to think of England, he slowly began unfastening Angel's buttons.

She lay passively in his arms, her face flushed, her breathing shallow.

“You're so beautiful.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “Like an angel.”

She smiled, then lifted her hand to his face. He caught it, kissed the fingertips, then placed it safely back at her side. “Let me,” he said to her. “Just be still and let me touch you.”

He'd only managed to undo the buttons to the point below her breasts, but he couldn't wait any longer. Pushing the lace edges apart, he created a gap that revealed the first rise of her breasts beneath a glossy pink bra.

Lust beat like a fist inside his chest. Cooper sucked in a quick breath, beating back the sense of almost-panic. The overly rapid thrumming eased, and he lifted his hand to the bra's front clasp.

Where he fumbled.

God, he never fumbled! But the fingers that had
once—and, as far as he knew, still—held the dorm record for one-handedly unclasping twenty-five different bras in fifteen seconds were so unsteady that he couldn't do the deed. Granted, the bras had been strapped to chairs instead of warm-skinned women, but he'd had plenty of opportunity to practice his technique in the flesh since that time.

She started to squirm. “Cooper…”

Hell, hell
. There was a hint of trepidation in her voice and he didn't want to stop now.

“Cooper.” One of her hands rose to the edges of her blouse as if she wanted to draw it together. Her face flushed brighter, and he knew her embarrassment was about to ruin the mood.

Damning his clumsiness, he blew out a calming breath and smoothed her protective arm away. Then he kissed her again and, giving up on the damn bra clasp, slid his hand between the open edges of her shirt to cup her bra-covered breast.

She made a sweet little moan and Cooper glanced down. What a sight. Almost as much a turn-on as that sweet, warm weight in his palm was the vision of his heavy wrist disappearing inside her lacy clothes.

His heart was pumping easily now and he decided it was because most of his blood was staying south. He was hard as stone and he went even harder as he rubbed his thumb over her stiff nipple.

She made another little sound, but he didn't look away from her lace-covered breasts. It was too good to see how she was trembling and to feel the fluttering of her heartbeat against his fingertips as he wandered toward the other breast. He weighed this one in his palm
too, then stroked the side of his thumb back and forth to bring the nipple to a tighter, harder point.

“Cooper,” she whispered.

He glanced up, saw her nostrils flare and her tongue dart out to moisten her bottom lip.

Watching her face, he lightly pinched her nipple. Her eyes closed.

So he snuck up on her then, in a quick move pulling his hand away to put his mouth there, right over her clothes. Ignoring her little jolt of reaction, he wet the fabric with his tongue and felt her nipple go stiffer. His tongue flattened over it, getting the material wetter, until it was plastered against her skin. Then he took her breast into his mouth, pushing that sweet tight nipple to the roof of his mouth. Sucked.

She bowed in his arms, her thighs shifting against his erection. The sweet, unconscious stroke made him suck stronger, made her shift again.

But he couldn't have her moving like that. No.

Transferring his attention to her other breast, he circled the fabric over that nipple with his tongue. Like before, this new touch rendered Angel motionless. So he circled it again and again, feeling her tense as she anticipated that soft sucking she'd liked so much.

When she was trembling with eagerness, he covered her breast with his mouth and bit down.

She cried out.

He lifted his head, pretended concern. “Did I hurt you?” He knew he hadn't. He knew the cry had come out of pure pleasure.

“No, I…” She shook her head, her hair floating
away from her shoulders, then falling to settle over her half-buttoned blouse. “No.”

“Then…” Keeping his smile to himself, he very deliberately brushed the back of his hand across one breast, moving the blond curls that were in his way. Then he stroked across the other, brushing her nipple with his knuckles. He heard her breath catch, and ran his knuckles by the nipple again. And again.

“Cooper.” This whisper was agonized.

He glanced up, reading the desire, the need, on her face. “Let me,” he said, suddenly knowing he couldn't, wouldn't stop unless she wanted him to. His original intention had been nothing more than high-school-level experimentation, but now he wanted to go beyond that.

A last taste for himself. Relief for her.

“Let me.” Without waiting for an answer, he bent his head to her breasts again.

They smelled like her perfume, and even through the wet blouse and bra, they tasted sweet and warm. They fit perfectly in his mouth, and when he sucked them, the little sounds she released made him think he still served some purpose in the world.

She made him feel like more than half the man that he'd been.

Her body was vibrating, trembling with arousal. He tried to soothe her by stroking his hand down her thigh, but she flinched at the touch, her skin hypersensitive.

“Cooper,” she whispered.

He kissed the very tip of her nipple and he could feel her heart racing against his cheek. It was life in his
hands, life under his control, and he knew, now, how very precious that was.

“Cooper…” she said louder, putting a hand against her temple as if she were trying to pull herself together.

Ah, but he was after making her fly apart.

“Shh,” he said, kissing her mouth softly. “Don't fight it.”

He stroked down her leg again, ignoring another small jerk. He ignored the next, bigger jerk too, when he began to draw up the hem of her skirt. It was full enough to move easily along her thighs. To divert her attention, he kissed her mouth again, then ducked his hand beneath the ruched fabric to slide his fingers to the warm mound covered by silky material.

His hand resting there, he kissed his way down her chin and throat to take her nipple in his mouth once more. Sucking strongly, he eased his fingers beneath the panties and cupped her. Her moan was long and sweet.

She was hot. So wet that his fingers slid easily between the folds of her sex. Her clitoris was like her nipples—hard, and eager for his touch. He brushed his thumb across it once, and her body went rigid. Eyes squeezed tight, she was soundless now, totally focused on his hand.

He brushed her lightly again, and then, in one deliberate coordination of movement, he slid his tongue over her nipple, he slid his thumb over her clitoris, he slid his two longest fingers inside her tight body.

The moment stretched as her body bowed against his lap, went taut.

He nudged her once more with his thumb, and her inner muscles clenched hard. Clenched hard again. Releasing her breast, he lifted his head to watch the climax roll through her, even as he felt every wave of it through his invading fingers.

It was the most erotic, beautiful thing he'd ever seen. All that delicate blond prettiness splayed across his body, her clothes half-on, shoved up. But even more erotic, more beautiful was that, for a few moments at least, it was Cooper who was controlling every breath, every response, of a woman as complex and independent as Angel.

God, he thought, amazed at the pleasure of giving pleasure. He could die at this moment and die happy.

 

Even before the aftershivers of pleasure had played out, Cooper had Angel's hem back at her knees, her blouse rebuttoned, and her two feet flat on the ground. Swaying a little, she blinked down at him. “I…um…”

She should say something, really she should. And as soon as she figured out exactly what that should be, she would. But no other man had ever managed to bring her to such a state and she was still befuddled by it.

He unfolded stiffly from the seat, not quite meeting her eyes. “It's late. I'll walk you to your cottage.”

She blinked some more, trying to reconcile his brisk tone with what had just happened on that bentwood chair.