Immortal (Fallen Angels #6)(50)
Author: J.R. Ward

For him.

He wanted to tell her later. He wanted to tell her no.

He didn’t. He tossed his now-dirty shirt on the floor, and went back to her, running his hands up her thighs, going for her core with his thumbs. He wanted to go down on her. Right here in the kitchen. Just get rid of those jeans and put his knees to the floor and let his tongue do whatever it wanted.

But he didn’t need Ad finishing shit up and coming back here for a drink.

His next option was to go the true penetration route—God knew he was still hard and raring to go. Again, though, that involved her going pants-off, and the idea of any man seeing her undressed and in mid-orgasm during sex made him want to get a nuclear weapon.

The last option was the conservative one. But it was so much better than stopping—and a big-ass improvement over getting caught red-handed.

“You know what I’m picturing right now,” he said into her ear.

“What…” So hoarse, her voice was so hoarse and he loved the sound of it.

“You’re naked.” He started rubbing at her faster. “You’re on your back…”

She moaned and pushed herself against him, like she was seeking exactly what he intended her to have.

“You’re naked and you’re on your back and I’m between your legs.” He kissed her lips and lingered there. “But I’m doing this”—he circled the top of her sex—“with my mouth.”

He thrust his tongue into her as she orgasmed, her nails biting into his back, her breasts arching up. He helped her ride the release out until she went loose in her own skin, her body so pliant and relaxed, he wondered if he could just slip inside of her and …

No more hammering, though. So Ad had either taken a breather or was about to.

Easing back, Jim brushed the hair out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes dazed and wide. She was in a state of total undone … and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Do you believe me now?” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Yes…”

“Good.”

When she yawned so hard her jaw cracked, he scooped her up into his arms. As he turned around, he recoiled at the mess he’d made: chairs all over the place, crap that had been on the counter now on the floor, his pack of cigarettes spilled across the table.

“We gotta stop trashing this house,” he muttered as he walked out.

Chapter Twenty-five

As Ad came into the kitchen, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had fucked things up—and this time, it wasn’t something metaphysical.

Although he was willing to bet there had been some mind blowing going on.

Ad put the ancient book down on the table and arranged the chairs back where they belonged. Then he took a load off and waited. Up on the second floor, he could hear all kinds of movement going on, people walking around, doors closing. After a while, a single pair of heavy footfalls clomped down the stairs.

“I’m in here,” he called out.

When Jim sauntered into the kitchen, the savior was all about the no-big-deal and the nothing-special. “You ready for dinner yet?”

“We need to talk,” Ad countered.

Jim went over and popped the refrigerator. “About what.”

“Your girl.”

Three, two one … except nope, the guy didn’t bother with any kind of denial about that possessive pronoun.

“What about her.” Jim closed the ice box door and went to work on the cupboards. “We got any food?”

“Sea salt–and-vinegar potato chips, fresh bag, at your eleven o’clock.”

“Fucking perfect.”

Ad waited until the guy had sat down across the way and cracked the seal on the chips. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way—”

“So don’t say it.”

“—but we can’t ignore the fact that Sissy might be possessed.”

Down went the bag to the table and that heavy jaw stopped chewing. “What.”

Ad rubbed the center of his own chest—because even raising the issue was enough to give him the heebs. “I think Sissy brought something out of Hell with her. I think it’s inside of her, and the longer it’s in there, the more it’s going to take root and grow.”

Jim shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. She was an innocent when she went in and—”

“There’s a reason people like her aren’t allowed up in Heaven.”

“Excuse me.”

“They’re contaminated.”

Jim got up, his chair squeaking across the bare floorboards. “I’m not hearing—”

“Then explain to me how she can read this.” Ad opened the ancient book up to a random page. “This isn’t Latin, Jim. It’s Devina’s language, and I think Sissy can read it because—”

“No!” The savior crushed the bag in his fist. “You’re fucking out of your mind.”

“It’s what her rages are about.”

“She’s not angry.”

Ad got to his feet, and jacked his torso forward. “She nearly burned the fucking house down, Jim. Quit thinking with your dick and get real.”

Jim pointed a finger across the table, his hand shaking. “I’m going to forget that you said any of this.”

“Then you’re going to lose everything. Including her. Devina is a parasite—she gets into people through an injury to the soul, and once she enters, she divides and conquers. It’s Vin diPietro all over again—”

“No, no, fuck that. There’s nothing wrong with her—I’d sense it like I sense Devina—”

“You didn’t sense shit in the last round, did you. Or any of the others when Devina was at work. And that’s another reason why I think Sissy’s the soul.”

Jim stared at him hard. “I don’t get it—I thought you were cool with her.”

Ad rubbed his tired, aching head. “Goddamn it, Jim—”

“I’m serious. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He’d been afraid of this. He’d been totally fucking afraid of this. “You need to get real here, Jim. Not fight with me, okay? Of course I’m cool with Sissy, but I’m not going to let that get in the way of my being logical—and you sure as shit can’t let that happen.” He kept his voice as level and even as he could. “I’ll say it again. I think Sissy is the soul in play, and you need to get very clearly here, or we are gonna be in a world of hurt. Especially her.”