Johanna Lindsey - Angel

His gaze locked with hers now. Cassie became slightly breathless with the intensity of his stare.

“Not after tonight it won’t,” he said in his slow, mesmerizing drawl.

“Why?” She barely got the word out.

“Because I’m in the mood to play husband.”

“You’re what?”

He started toward her. She was too stunned to move, so he was there and reaching for her before she had time to even think about running.

“We’re having a wedding night,” he said as he lifted her off her feet.

“Wait—!”

“Not this time, honey. I didn’t ask you to marry me. You would have said no if I had. Yet we’re married, and right now I want you bad enough to take advantage of that.”

Cassie wasn’t given another opportunity to protest, not for a while anyway. Angel no sooner laid her on the bed than his body came down to pin her there, and his kiss captured her full attention, fiercely taking, tenderly giving. Pleasure came swiftly, aided by his weight pressing her in intimate places. She was helpless to resist it or him, and then she didn’t want to.

It was a magical word, “married.” It gave permission to enjoy, taking away the guilt and most of the fear. It also removed inhibitions, so that she could hold him and kiss him back. And when she did, she reveled in the sound of his groan as he understood she wouldn’t be stopping him this time.

He wanted her, for whatever reason, revenge or desire, she didn’t care. Nothing mattered then except the need they shared, and Cassie definitely shared it. Like fire it was, the feeling that grew inside her. It was so consuming she barely noticed when he started undressing her, until his hands were reaching bare flesh, and she couldn’t help noticing that, it was such a sensual shock. But there were more shocks to come, for he was soon touching her everywhere. And then the warmth, skin on skin, and his lips suddenly closing on a turgid nipple to suck it deep into his mouth.

Such incredible heat in contrast to the silky coolness of his hair as it trailed over her skin.

Her back arched off the bed. Her breath was coming in short bursts. She held his head in her hands, his waist between her legs, and the intensity of what she was feeling now made her want to scream. She didn’t, not yet. But something continued to build deep in her loins, something hot and achy and out of control.

Then suddenly he was slipping out of her hold. His hands molded to her breasts as his tongue licked a path straight down her belly to — no, he wouldn’t. Oh, God, he did. The protest came and died on the same breath, because in the next instant there was an explosion of pulsating pleasure that reared her off the bed, leaving her caught in a realm of pure sensation. It was beyond reality, beyond comprehension, and she was helpless to do anything but ride it out to the last blissful pulsebeat.

She was wrapped in his arms by then, his sleek musculature molded to her, his weight a surprising comfort. But a new sensation intruded on her languor, an invasion that had her tensing. Yet fear didn’t have time to take hold. She was warm and wet, and his entry was so smooth, there was only the tiniest bit of pressure to denote the breaking of her maidenhead before he was filling her fully, deeply.

He reared back then, straightening his arms to brace them on either side of her, embedding himself even deeper inside her. But when she opened her eyes, it was to find him staring down at her, just staring, his eyes so dark, so intense.

“You can’t imagine how much I’ve wanted this — wanted you.”

No, she couldn’t. She could still scarcely believe it. And she couldn’t reply. She held her breath, watching him look his fill. He didn’t move, only his eyes, and a tingling returned to her breasts as he stared at them, the fluttering stirred in her belly when he looked there, and where they were joined, the heat came back in a rush.

“Oh, God,” she gasped.

He smiled, and began a slow, sensuous thrusting. He lowered his head to kiss her. Her lips clung to his, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, and tighter still as the tension mounted again. And then the throbbing was back, bursting over her senses, surrounding him, and he plunged deep, grinding into her, enhancing it, his own head thrown back to emit a low, animal sound of pure pleasure.

Waking up with a man in her bed was a unique experience, one Cassie wouldn’t half mind if the circumstances were other than what they were. As it was, she didn’t know whether to get up or go back to sleep and hope he’d be gone by the time she woke again. Of course, she couldn’t fall back asleep with reality intruding. Reality was such an ugly word this morning. It had been suspended for a while last night, but now it was back with a vengeance.

Married. And not by choice, though if she’d had a choice — no, her own wishes didn’t count. But she’d had a wedding night. And Jenny had certainly called it right, wonderful — actually, that was too mild a word to describe what Angel had given her. But it shouldn’t have happened, not with Angel. And it had happened for the wrong reasons.

It was laughable, really. She’d been so sure he was going to go after the MacKauleys, that he’d want his revenge in blood. But he hadn’t faulted them for something she’d instigated in the first place. No, he’d put the blame smack where it belonged and reserved his revenge just for her. And that was so like him, to be fair in that way. She didn’t know why she hadn’t guessed what he’d do sooner. After all, if he got even for minor things with kissing, it stood to reason that he’d go for the whole works for something as serious as a forced marriage.

She wondered if she was supposed to have enjoyed it so much. Probably not. Or maybe that didn’t matter to him, since the divorce he was forcing on her was the true revenge. Although more and more people were ending marriages these days in that way, it was still a scandalous thing to do, so much so that whatever hopes Cassie had of one day marrying, she might as well bury. No man with decent morals would consider a divorced woman for his wife.

That was a really rotten thing for Angel to have done to her, now that she thought about it. Had she really deserved that just because he’d been a little inconvenienced? She didn’t think so, when an annulment would have served and saved her reputation. He was damn lucky she wasn’t the vindictive sort, or she’d do some getting even of her own and not divorce him at all. It would serve him right to be stuck with her. But she couldn’t do that to him, since none of this was his fault.

He stirred just then, drawing her attention. He was sleeping on his stomach, with his face turned away from her. Only the arm thrown up over the pillow and his bare shoulders were visible, because at some time during the night they’d both gotten under the covers. Yet he was naked beneath them. So was she.

After last night, that thought shouldn’t make her blush, but it did. And her curiosity added even more heat. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his body last night. She couldn’t deny she’d like to. But she wasn’t daring enough to throw back the covers. Besides, she didn’t want to have words with him while they were still in bed. That would put her at a distinct disadvantage, and she had so few advantages— none, actually, that she could think of at the moment. But at least putting on some clothes before she had to face him would make her more comfortable.

With that decided, she carefully sat up, and immediately noticed Marabelle’s tail swishing the floorboards at the end of the bed. It came to her then, a vague memory of the panther scratching at the door in the middle of the night to get in. Cassie must have got up to let her in, then gone right back to sleep. And obviously Angel hadn’t been disturbed by it, or he wouldn’t still be there.

But she had to put Marabelle out before he woke up. His finding her there would almost guarantee his starting the day in a rotten mood. Yet Cassie didn’t move immediately to do so. And suddenly she smiled to herself.

So maybe she could be a little vindictive just this once. After all, Marabelle had more right to be there than Cassie’s soon-to-be-divorced husband did. And why should she worry about his mood anyway? He ought to be worried about hers after what he did to her — making love to her for revenge. She wouldn’t have thought him that cruel, but it just went to show that you couldn’t trust a man who went around killing people for a living.

She wouldn’t remove her pet. She’d like to remove her husband. She settled for getting dressed, and so inched her way out from under the covers and tiptoed to her wardrobe. But by the time she got there, Cassie was cringing. She’d never realized how many loose floorboards she had that creaked, and for God’s sake, why had she never noticed that the hinges on her wardrobe needed oiling? She was making enough noise to wake the dead, and a glance over her shoulder proved that Angel didn’t fall into that category. The first creak on the floor had brought his eyes open, and those eyes were now fixed on her naked backside.

Her modesty scandalized, Cassie managed to gasp, “Close your eyes!”

“Hell, no,” he replied, and he actually grinned. “You’re a damn pretty sight to wake up to, honey. Why don’t you turn around so I can have a better look?”

“Why don’t you go to hell?” she retorted and grabbed the first thing at hand, a voluminous petticoat, and whipped it over her head to wiggle into.

“Aren’t your drawers supposed to go on first?”

That was laughter in his voice, she’d swear it was. “Just shut up, Angel.”