Price of Angels (Dartmoor Book 2) by Lauren Gilley

Author:Lauren Gilley [Gilley, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-03-22T19:00:00+00:00

Holly hadn’t expected the simple pleasure of watching him eat food she’d prepared. Of seeing him casual in his socked feet in her home like this. By the time she stood to clear the dishes, she was glowing, and didn’t care if it showed. This was world’s better than all of her imaginings.

After she’d put the leftovers in the fridge, and returned to the table to refill Michael’s drink, he caught her gently by one forearm, hand going to the cuff at her wrist. His energy had tightened and intensified; his eyes were bright when they lifted to her face.

“You cover the scars with these.” Not a question.

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

He passed his thumb over the brass snaps of the closure. “Will you take them off?”

Holly took a deep breath, and sank slowly down to her knees, so her arms rested across his lap, fingers clasped against his denim-covered thighs. “I will,” she said as she looked up at him, “if you’ll do something for me.”

She felt needlessly brave and stupid, too bold asking for anything from anyone. Who was she to deserve the consideration of a man who’d already given her so much?

But he said, “Okay.”

“Will you…” She had to dampen her lips. His eyes were so focused, full of an ungodly intensity. “Will you take your clothes off? I want to feel you this time,” she whispered.

He nodded.

Then he eased her hands away, so he could stand.

“I didn’t mean you had to…” Holly started, and then trailed off, as he reached for the hem of his shirt. God, he was going to strip down right here, and all she could do was watch, mouth going dry as she knelt on the floor in front of him.

His torso stretched and flexed as he lifted the shirt clear of his head, abs and pecs and biceps leaping and then settling. The tendons in his vein-laced forearms flickered under the skin as his hands went to his belt. Buckle, button, zipper, and he pushed down his boxer-briefs at the same time, shucked his socks as he pulled the jeans off his feet. And then he was naked and beautiful before her.

He was hardening for her already.

Holly wasn’t sure it would ever not frighten her, just a little: that male organ in its nest of dark hair. But she liked the little trail of hair that tracked up to his navel. And she liked the firm lengths of his thighs, the crisp shape of his calves and ankles and his long, narrow-toed feet.

She unfastened the cuffs on her wrists and set them on the table.

His hand came down for her and she took it, let him lift her to her feet.

The blood was pounding in her ears, her breasts, between her legs as he pulled her into the bare hard length of him and kissed her. He was in complete control of himself this time, the hot stroke of his mouth deliberate, consuming, slow. He opened up her lips and feasted from her with florid, luscious movements of his tongue.

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