WHAT HAD GOTTEN INTO HER? ANGEL FELT AS IF SHE WERE
watching someone else make love to Logan—and that wasn’t something she’d ever done.
There was a lot going on that she’d never done. Who was this woman? She’d never been this uninhibited in her life. Never even thought to say the things she was saying to him.
And the red lingerie?
Ah, well, that saleswoman had known what she was talking about.
Logan straightened again, this time with the con¬dom free of its packaging, ready to put it in place, and Angel was ready to let the Siren inside her free. She stroked him again, loving the sound of his breath whooshing out.
Loving him.
“You’re killing me here, Angel.”
Oh no she wasn’t. She took the condom from him and rolled it into place, taking an extra long time so her fingernails could gently scrape along his length.
But Logan was having none of it. The minute she’d sheathed him, he knelt over her and began an assault on her breasts with his mouth, holding the rest of his body above her.
Angel squirmed beneath his strong, muscled body. Gods, she was used to the male chest, but something
about Logan’s and its light dusting of hair made her, well, itch to feel him against her.
Logan lowered himself onto her, taking his weight with his elbows as he pressed her breasts together, flick-ing his tongue from one breast to the other. Angel arched against him. There. That was one way to feel him.
He flicked his tongue again and her stomach con-tracted. Another part of her swelled. Angel didn’t know how much more of this she could take.
Then he blew on her breasts and she had her answer.
Not much.
She wrapped her legs around his back, settling her heels against the top of his backside, feeling the muscles there flex.
“Logan…”
He raised his head, those gold flecks in his eyes glit-tering. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“I’m also aching.” Who was this woman?
He smiled and Angel decided she didn’t mind the new her.
“Let me see what I can do.” Logan rolled to the side, one hand tangling in her hair at the base of her neck and his other hand…
Oh, his other hand—
One long, hard, callused finger slid down her body, lightly brushing the underside of her breast, feathering over her abdomen, and tracing around her navel until, finally, he was there. Where every nerve was already alive and waiting for him. Where she was open and ach-ing and wet for him.
“Here?” He smiled again, one eyebrow arching, and Angel couldn’t find any teasing inside of her.
“Yes” came out in one long breathy, achy, pleading moan, and she twisted the sheets in her grasp.
Logan, gods bless him, took pity on her and stroked her, just where she needed him to. Flicked the tip of his finger just where she wanted him to. Groaned just how she liked him to.
Then pressed and stroked and swirled and dipped inside just as she craved him to.
The sensations were overwhelming, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Logan was unlike any-one she’d ever made love with and she didn’t mean the lack of a tail. He took her higher, brought her to the edge but wouldn’t let her dive off again and again, until she was one mass of needing, writhing, feeling nerve end-ings, panting and moaning, searching for something just beyond the next stroke of his finger, the next soft breath he blew against the sensitized skin of her breast, the next kiss he placed against her throat…
He flicked his tongue along her jaw, then along her bottom lip, and Angel tried hard to catch her breath—the problem being, she had no breath to catch.
His finger slid out of her body and he cupped her, his palm pressing against that most sensitive part of her, and she gasped, her eyes flying to meet his.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered.
“You are.” She didn’t know if she said it or simply mouthed the words, but by Logan’s smile she gathered that he understood.
At least one of them did.
She had no idea why it was like this between them, no clue how one man could be so much to her, why he affected her like this, why she was willing to do this
when common sense and everything she’d thought she’d wanted said it wasn’t a good idea…
Because she loved him. Gods, yes. She did.
The admission flowed into her, and Angel em¬braced it. This was what her parents, her broth¬ers, felt and it was so right. She hadn’t planned it, wouldn’t have chosen it, but as he kissed her, she didn’t care.
She loved Logan.
Then his finger stroked her long and hard and Angel could only focus on the sensations as that rising tide welled up inside her and she struggled again to breathe, to think, to focus, to see…
“Come for me, Angel.”
She did. Shattered, pulsing against his finger as the dam of feeling flooded her, lifting her to the tips of the wave, tossing her into the trough, swirling her onto yet another rise. Cresting and plunging, swirling again… over and over, the feeling more intense than any vortex, more wonderful than anything…
Slowly she came back to reality and loosed the grip she had on the sheets as her breathing made it to some-where in the vicinity of normal.
Logan raised himself above her, satisfaction tilting up the curves of his mouth. “Perfect.”
Let him gloat; he was one hundred percent right. It had been.
She nodded. “You did say you wanted our next kiss to be perfect.”
“Can’t be more perfect than that.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She traced his lips with her
fingers. “Why don’t you get down here and we’ll see if we can make it even better.”
“I like the way you think, lady.”
She liked the way he moved, settling into the cradle of her thighs just where she’d demanded, the tip of his erection throbbing against her.
“Logan—”
“Angel—” They smiled.
“Make love to me, Logan.” “My pleasure.”
Maybe, but it was also hers. She tried to tell him that as he slid into her, but she was so filled with the wonder of him inside her—literally and figuratively— that she couldn’t.
It was just so… so… So perfect.