Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers down the rigid line of his thigh, her stomach tight with expectation. “I don’t think you see me as an infant.”
“Correct.” His voice had dropped, his cock brutally hard against the tough black material of his pants. “But I do think you’re still recovering.”
She looked up, her body slick with welcome. “Sex is relaxing.”
“Not the kind of sex I want.” Calm words, white lightning in those eyes, a reminder that this was the Archangel of New York she was trying to tempt into wickedness.
But she hadn’t survived him the first time by giving in. “Come in with me.”
He rose to his feet and circled around until he was at her back. “If you watch me, Elena, I might break my promises to both of us.”
She would’ve turned anyway, unable to resist the temptation that was the gut-wrenching masculine beauty of him, but then he said, “It would be so easy for me to hurt you.”
For the first time, she realized she wasn’t the only one who was dealing with something new, something unexpected. Staying in place, she listened to the dull thud of his boots hitting the snow, the intimate whisper of his clothes sliding off his body. She could see the corded strength of his arms and shoulders in her mind, her fingers aching to stroke the ridged plane of his abdomen, the muscular length of his thighs.
Her own thighs clenched as the water lapped around her, disturbed by a body far bigger and stronger than her own. She held her breath as he came closer, until he braced his hands against the rock on either side of her. Spreading out her wings so he could press against her back, she sucked in a breath. “Raphael, that’s not helping matters.”
The heat of his cock pulsed against her skin, a living brand, even as her wings arrowed sensation straight to the liquid- soft core of her body. An instant later, his lips touched her ear. “You torture me, Elena.” Teeth closing over her flesh, a none too gentle bite.
She yelped, the sound high, startled. “What was that for?”
“I’ve been celibate for over a year, Guild Hunter.” One big hand boldly cupped her breast, his fingers strong, unmistakably male against her flesh. “Need is rubbing on my temper.”
“What, you didn’t sink your cock into a vampire honey while I was out?”
Raphael pinched her nipple just hard enough to let her know she’d crossed a line. “You think so little of my honor?” Ice hung in the air.
“I’m jealous and frustrated,” she said, reaching back to press her palm against his cheek. “And I know I look like shit.” While vampires past their first few decades of life were beyond stunning, their skin unblemished, their bodies sleek. Very few humans ever came close to sleeping with an angel—they were simply outclassed.
Raphael skimmed his hand down her side. “It’s true you’ve lost a little weight, but I still want to fuck you mindless.”
4
Her brain blanked for several seconds. When she could speak, it came out a breathy moan. “You’re trying to kill me.”
A squeeze of her breast, the skin so tight the pleasure was almost pain. “It’s a much better form of punishment than tearing you limb from limb.”
“Can’t have sex with a dead woman, huh?”
“Precisely.”
Flames licked along her spine as he stroked both hands downward, sweeping his thumbs over the taut flesh of her buttocks. “Half the time, I’m not certain if you’re being serious or not.”
His fingers paused in their sensual torment. “Are you sure you wish me to know that? It’s a weakness.”
“Someone’s got to take the first step.” Lifting her foot, she ran it up behind his calf.
A kiss pressed to the beat of the pulse in her neck. “Such honesty will not serve you well among angelkind.”
“What about with you?”
“I’m used to utilizing what I know to maintain power.”
Elena leaned her chin on her hands, letting him ease the knots along the edges where her wings grew out of her back. It felt exquisite—so good she knew she’d never let another man touch her there, even in friendship. It would be a betrayal. “You’re being pretty honest yourself.”
“Perhaps between us,” he said slowly, as if considering the matter, “it may not be a weakness but a strength.”
Surprised, she turned her head. “Really? Then tell me something about yourself.”
He pressed his thumb into a particularly tight spot and she moaned, dropping her head onto her hands. “Lord have mercy.”
“It’s not the Lord you should be asking for mercy.” His tone held a possessive undercurrent that was becoming intimately familiar. “What would you like to know?”