Immortal (Fallen Angels #6)(77)
Author: J.R. Ward

And when he finished going over every single square inch of skin she had? He got the shampoo and went for her hair—which of course meant she had to get flush with him, the soap making her slip and slide against his hard body.

Naturally, she had to amuse herself as he worked at the long lengths.

She went for his erection, taking it into her palms, making him curse and lose his rhythm.

“You sure you wanna do that?” he asked in a guttural way.

“Oh, yeah. Yup. Very sure.”

As she worked her hands up and down his length, the soap was the perfect lubricant, and, God, she loved how he felt. Hard and hot, with that ridge and the blunt head. It wasn’t long before his body slammed against the wall, his great weight pulling the shower curtain out of its graceful fall of folds.

His eyes were stoned and hyper-alert at the same time as he stared not at what she was doing, but right at her face—as if the physical friction was nice and all, but what really turned him on was the fact that she was the one doing it to him. And then he closed his lids and gritted his teeth, his breath going short as he got closer and closer …

He came all over the front of her and she loved it.

But he didn’t recover for long.

He kissed her deep and traded places with her, shifting her under the spray, the rush hitting her hair and drawing her head back. When there was a squeak from the tub, she looked down and saw that he was on his knees in front of her.

His hands were like the warm water, all over her body—his mouth, too, his lips traveling to her hip bones, the tops of her thighs—

The top of her sex.

And then he licked her, his tongue extending, tasting.

Thank God he took control, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder as he went in further, his hands locking on her pelvis to keep her from falling. Now she was the one tangling the shower curtain, grabbing onto the folds, using them to hold herself upright.

She orgasmed against his lips and his face, the sight of where he was and what he was doing pitching her right over the edge within moments. And he didn’t stop.

She didn’t want him to.

Warm and wet—everything was warm and wet, from the heat in the air around them to the shower down her back to the way he made love to her core—

The crash was a shocker, not just bursting the bubble of sex, but blowing it the hell up.

With a quick surge he was up on his feet, ready to fight—but there was no enemy in the bathroom with them.

Sissy lifted her hands, and the soggy, soaked shower curtain came up with them. “Oh … crap. I ripped…”

Glancing up, she saw a whole lot of eye hooks with bits of fabric hanging off them still attached to the metal ring that hung from the ceiling.

“Never mind,” he growled as he picked her up and got out of the tub.

He left the water still running as he backed her against the door, put her legs around his hips, and went into her with a strong thrust. Gripping his shoulders with her nails, she gave herself up to the sex, and oh, man, if what had happened in the tub had been good, this was even better.

And it was what she needed right now.

Joined like this? She could pretend that they were going to be together … forever.

Chapter Forty-three

An hour and one more shower later, Sissy was downstairs in the kitchen, helping herself to the last slice of Eddie’s perfectly cooked chocolate cake. Jim had passed out cold in his bedroom—because that was as far as they’d made it. Even though hers was just four or five more doors down the hall, they’d been too greedy and impatient to make the trip.

Funny, there had been a new and different satisfaction in leaving him in tangled sheets, his fighter’s body all used up because of how much he wanted her.

Before she’d left, she’d stood over him and watched him … even carefully touched the gold dove pendant of hers that he wore around his neck. He’d stirred at that point and that was why she left.

For some reason, she couldn’t shake the conception that something bad was about to happen.

“So, yup, chocolate is perfect,” she muttered as she sat down at the table and took the first bite.

Oh, God, it was amazing: All the endorphins in her body from those orgasms, coupled with the chocolate cake and the fake vanilla icing? High-octane euphoria, even with that spiking fear in the center of her chest.

There was a copy of the Caldwell Courier Journal on the far side of the table, and she pulled it over so her eyes had something to do. The top half of the front page was all about international stuff. The bottom had a picture of some real estate tycoon who had apparently decided to sell off all his holdings and was creating a stir in town—

Sissy frowned and leaned closer to the black-and-white photograph. Then decided she was seeing things.

Except no … that man had a halo: Even with the grainy nature of the image, she could see a faint circle over the businessman’s head.

Vincent diPietro. And the photo had been taken the day before, as he’d walked into his lawyer’s office downtown to sign papers.

Strange, that he had one, as well. But considering everything else that was going on? Not something she was going to give much thought to.

After she finished her midnight snack, she had a skim-milk chaser, and put her dishes in the sink. Then she was all about the upstairs, ready to cozy up to Jim and have him throw an arm over her—because God only knew what the morning was going to bring.

Except she didn’t make it to even the first landing of the staircase.

She ended up in the trashed parlor.

The plywood sheets over the busted-out windows did a fairly good job of keeping the rain out, but they weren’t a tight lock, so the room felt colder and even more damp than the rest of the house. And even with the drafts, the piney smell of the fresh-cut plywood permeated the air, like someone had hung evergreen air fresheners off all the sconces.

As her bare feet went silently over the chilly, bare floorboards, there were no lamps to turn on, because they’d all been sucked away along with the tables they’d been sitting on. There was, however, enough illumination to see by: Thanks to the exterior fixtures mounted on the corner of the house, artificial light bled through the loose seals around the window wells, looking as if maybe the plywood panels were doors you could pass through to other planes of existence.

She found what she was looking for on the mantelpiece over the marble fireplace.

Devina’s book barely fit on the ledge, its ragged leather cover hanging off nearly to the point of falling. She figured Adrian must have put it there while he’d been working on the room. Or maybe the thing had climbed up the moldings and taken a seat by itself.