Archangel Rafe (A Novel of The Seven Book 1) (23 page)

“
Carus.
We need to get you warmed up.” Rafe led her to the bedroom that Greta had prepared for them. After he opened the door, he catalogued the double bed and the cot in the corner. He needed to wrap her up to stay the shivers that wracked her body.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes.” It was already too hot in the house to turn on the heat.

Rafe left Angelina standing beside the four-poster bed and went in search of a thick, heavy blanket. But when he returned, she hadn’t moved. She stood in the same spot, and if anything, her shaking was worse.

“You have to get warm.”

She looked at him with bruised eyes, her stare uncomprehending, as if her psyche had taken too much and couldn’t bear anymore. In that moment, Rafe understood that Angelina had too much compassion. She cared too much for her patients. Her brain had just shut down, shut out the trauma of the last hour.

Rafe began to strip off her sopping clothes. He lifted the white cotton long-sleeve shirt over her head, tried to ignore the expanse of soft, pale skin. Goose bumps covered her torso and spread down her flat stomach while her nipples poked through her simple cotton racer-back bra.

Hesitantly, he reached for the button of her jeans. The smooth skin of her abdomen contracted, reacting to the light brush of his fingers. The rasp of the zipper was overly loud in the silent room. Rafe’s heartbeat picked up its rhythm as he slid the wet fabric down her hips and over her thighs to puddle at her feet.

“Come on,
Carus
.” Rafe knelt and gently lifted her foot from one pant leg and then the other. Her movements were jerky and uncoordinated. The need to give comfort was strong. Stronger than it had ever been. Her sorrow, the emotion that had first drawn him to her in her dreams, pulled even stronger now that he knew her.

But Angelina continued to stand there as if cemented to the floor. Using the towel, he rubbed at her body. He was worried about her. Subtly he examined her, and searched for any of the virus, for any illness or energy that needed to be converted.

But shockingly, she had managed to replenish her own stores without Rafe giving her extra energy. With every use of her
Vis viva
, she grew stronger and her power fed her ability.

Angelina continued to shiver in the hot night air. He had to get her out of the wet bra and panties. Sweat beaded on his brow as thoughts of undressing her painted an erotic picture in his mind. Roughly he yanked open a dresser drawer, and hoped for warm, dry clothes for her to wear.

Right on top was a pure white, near virginal nightgown.

Carefully Rafe slid the nightgown over her head as she waited passively. Lace adorned the neckline along her delicate collarbone. He had to take off her underwear.

With shaking hands, he reached inside the keyhole neckline of the soft worn cotton to flick open the front clasp of her bra. Careful not to actually touch her body, he slid the straps off her shoulders and down the cool skin of her arms. But she didn’t react. Not at all.

“Can you take off your underwear,
Carus
?”

She just stared at him blankly.

This must be some sort of test. The Universe wanted to make sure he was committed to obeying the rules that the Thrones had lain down centuries before. What else could it be?

He knelt before her, the cold wet fabric of his jeans chafed as his knees rested on the scarred hardwood. He lifted the hem of the old-fashioned lace nightie, and wondered what he’d done lately to be subjected to this intimate torture.

Her plain white panties rode high on her hips and hit her bellybutton. The serviceable cotton was not remotely sexy and still his body reacted as if she wore a corset and garter.

All day he managed to keep his carnal thoughts at bay. The puzzle of the virus and the steady influx of patients left little time for distraction. But here in this intimate room with the bed beside him, the lustful feelings that had become harder and harder to fight wove their way insidiously through his mind.

And the fear that had gripped him when she’d refused to release from Tomasz’s dying wife finally found an outlet.

Not the right time, Rafe.

There was no way he could get her underwear off without contact. With exquisite care, he cupped her hips, hooked his fingers in the sides of the damp cotton, and tried carefully not to have his hands stray to the rounded globes of her butt.

A rush of desire flushed his skin, filled his member. His cock expanded painfully against the cold wet denim.

He shouldn’t be turned on. Damn, he was one sick Archangel. Without volition, his palms skimmed the muscles of her legs as he eased her underwear down her still shivering body.

“I need to examine you.” He needed to find what was wrong and fix it.

“Knock yourself out.” Listlessly, she stared straight ahead at the intricately painted wooden cuckoo clock, the ticking loud in the still and silent bedroom.

With a quiet efficiency, Rafe ran his hands above her body. What was wrong with her?

He held his hands above her, and started at her fingertips. He slowly moved his hands over her body, searched for any illness. Could the virus have somehow transmitted to Angelina? Because of her Angel status, it was nearly impossible for her to get sick. And yet, her breath was shallow. An odd sensation whispered over his heart as he concentrated. A shadow of panic flitted in his mind. What was wrong with her?

“Where does it hurt?” He had reached her shoulders, and hovered, undecided which way to go next. Her breath was still shallow, so he concentrated on her lungs. That was where the virus seemed to be centered in the people who had died so far. The airborne disease spread to the population invisibly.

He held his hands over her lungs and searched carefully for any change in her energy vibration. She was fine. She was exhausted, more from the heat and the sheer number of patients examined today than from any kind of illness.

Rafe felt the subtle tension in his body ease. But as his worry eased, a new energy took its place. How could an attraction this pure be bad?

Wrong. Forbidden. Love. But he couldn’t see how the feelings between them were wrong. Which meant there should be no wrong in the love of Tomasz and his dead wife.

Rafe’s hands were directly over her breasts. And he had pinned her between the hard straining muscles of his body and the solid unmoving bulk of the old-fashioned, four-poster bed. Her peach nipples shadowed the worn white cotton.

Angelina’s breath caught as she noticed the position of his hands. The hard berries stiffened further, her arousal heightened by the heat of his palms.

The air in the room turned sultry. Desire swirled around them. He couldn’t look away from those stiff little points. Blood pooled low in his groin, his erection grew heavy with his seed. For her.

He should back off. Give her some room. Leave her to recover in peace. Instead, he curled his hand around her jaw and tilted her mouth up to his.

Just once.

Just one time. To taste her. To find their connection in the lush recesses of her mouth.

Rafe brushed his lips against hers. Her lips were cool against his heat. He rubbed his nose against the curve of hers. Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, the touch soft and tentative. Her silky hair taunted his cheek and her lush breasts were cushioned by the hard bunch of his pectorals.

Rafe slanted his head and edged closer to take her mouth. With a firm lick of his tongue against her sweet soft lips, she opened for him. He sipped at her lips as if they were the sweetest of nectar, and learned her taste and her texture. Then she kissed him back. Her lips pressed just a little more insistently. Her breasts were crushed against the hard planes of his chest and their thighs aligned like the planets.

But they had to stop.

Rafe inhaled slowly. He wanted to hold this exact moment in time within him before he pushed her away. He wanted to touch her. To heal her. To make her his. Before he regained his sanity. And they moved back to their roles of teacher and pupil. Archangel and human. Taboo.

Her skin still held that unique scent that was strictly Angelina and laced with gardenia and brimstone.

Except that as he inhaled her sweet and sultry essence, he realized that it was the scent of them together.

When he realized that, he was lost.

THIRTY-FOUR

Angelina knew he was going to pull away.

She could feel his intent in the bunch of his muscles, the soft sigh of his breath against her forehead. Pain struck her heart. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected him to go.

She’d known this moment was inevitable from the first time he’d told her this was forbidden. But she’d be damned if he would leave
now
.

Not while her nipples ached for his mouth and her body was slick with desire. Her legs tingled from the brush of his hands against her thighs. His face was a dark pleasure as she stared into his gray, tormented gaze. Dark with desire but ready to deny them both. Even though his erection was heavy and strained the bounds of his jeans, he planned to turn her away.

Not this time. She was determined to reach out and take what she wanted, consequences be damned. Because she already was.

Deliberately, she clasped his hands. Rough calluses marked his palms. She marveled at the contrast of his darker, masculine skin against her pale white hands as she carefully pressed his palms to her aching nipples.

“Heal. Me.”

She stepped closer to Rafe and cupped him through his wet jeans. Heat burned through the cold. He was on fire. For her.

A groan rumbled through his body. His hips instinctively pushed against the hard pressure. “We cannot.”

Angelina unsnapped the button on his Levi’s and slowly lowered the zipper with difficulty. “Please.” She pulled his mouth down to hers.

As if with the action she had snapped his control, Rafe surrendered to her demands. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her back and slid his palms down to cup her buttocks, pulled her harder into the throbbing length of his manhood, and held her as if he’d never let her go. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, and suddenly she was desperate to feel him. Everywhere. All over her body, inside her.

She needed him.
Now
.

Angelina pulled him down to the bed with her, his wet clothes a cool contrast to the heat burning up her skin. His rain-soaked clothes dampened the simple cotton gown from her breasts, to the hard ridge of her pubis bone, to the muscles of her thighs.

Angelina was determined to take this moment for herself.

There would be time for regrets later.

She savored the smell of crisp ozone, the soft give of the mattress at her back and the hard, strong length of his muscular body. His bulk was solid, reassuring, there.

The hard rod of his erection pressed into her concave belly like a hot brand through the thin cotton nightgown.

Angelina arched up into his chest, and tugged at the plain white t-shirt still wet from their dash to the house. With a fierce move, she ripped it over his head and flung the shirt to the floor. As Rafe pulled the old gown up from her ankles, the material dragged against the hypersensitive skin of her back.

Angelina shivered. She had been lost for a little while. But as she came back into her body, she found herself in the arms of her dream angel. His fingertips skimmed along her arm, tingling with awareness, as he learned her body, and caressed her curves.

His heart thudded in his chest as her hand rested over his broad pectoral.

Angelina closed her eyes. She didn’t want reality to intrude.

The soft sheets, faint with the scent of bleach, rustled against her bare skin and sensitized her nerve endings. He made love to her mouth, his lips clung to hers as if he was drowning and only she could save him. She shivered as the rough pads of his fingers caressed the sensitive skin of her breast, then cupped her.

She needed his acceptance, needed this.

He gathered her hands, still chilled from the cold downpour, and rubbed gently along her arms. His motions soft and soothing until he blew lightly on her mark.

The air brushed across her wrist and swirled along her Angel’s mark, his breath unbearably erotic. As if the almost-touch gave her body permission to come alive, sensation caromed through her bloodstream, arced to her core, and washed over her in a dark rush of liquid desire.

Angelina opened her eyes and stared into Rafe’s silver eyes. His gray gaze glowed with lust. His body caged hers. Her hands were captive in his, the rough pad of his thumb stroked along the mark, and shot bolts of sensation through her body. Every innocent caress zinged her core. Her womb clenched in demand for him.

As each stroke lengthened, her breath shortened.

She was trapped beneath him, her movement limited by the press of his weight holding her down. She was desperate to feel his satin skin stretched tight over his muscles, to find relief from the ache of unfulfilled desire and the crushing weight of failure.

This wasn’t a dream. He was here. In this room with her. Dim light filtered through the lace curtains at the window.

She stared at him mutely, afraid to speak and break the spell of silence. Afraid to tip the balance the wrong way, afraid he’d realize that it wasn’t a dream. They were here together in this bed, surrounded by symbols of tradition. A virginal white gown, a white ticking bedspread, the maple turned bedposts, scarred and faded from generations of use, and a cross-stitched family tree on the wall above Battenberg lace shams. Tradition seeped from every pore of this room, decorated for a lifetime. But she knew they only had this moment, for her feelings could not be permanent. And their time together wouldn’t be forever.

His erection rubbed against the heat building at the junction of her thighs. His chest, thick and roped with muscle, pressed down against her softer, fuller breasts, his skin hot, burning with a passion he could no longer hide.

Angelina wanted this. Wanted him.

She knew their time together was almost at an end. And she refused to waste a moment of it. Angelina ran her palms over his heavily muscled shoulders and over his naked back and down to the hard contours of his butt. His erection pressed against her stomach. And oh, she wanted him naked and inside her.