The Voices of Angels by Peggy Jaeger

Author:Peggy Jaeger [Jaeger, Peggy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Paranormal
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2016-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The muffled sound of Mike’s door closing forced Carly out of her head and back to the present. The image reflected back at her from the vanity mirror had confusion written across its face. She forced her downturned mouth to straighten, relaxed the deep groove between her eyes.

Why did he stop?

The air in the kitchen had been rife with seduction, charged with sexual heat discharging between them. She’d lost all sense of rational thought when he’d placed her chocolate laden fingers in his mouth. Nerves, raw and frayed to begin with, started to fire with tiny electrical jolts each time his tongue swiped against her skin. If he’d so much as slipped his arms around her she would have jumped up on him, circled his waist with her legs and begged him to take her right there in the candlelit room.

Carly ran a finger across her jaw, rose and crossed to her door. Once there, she stopped, uncertain. As she leaned her head against its solid width, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She hadn’t wanted to get close to any man ever again. The physical, visceral pain she’d experienced at Martin’s passing had been unbearable. His loss had been too much, too damaging, too draining. When she’d buried him, she’d also buried her heart, locking it away, determined not to let any other man in, ever again.

Mike had found the key.

His touch made her come alive, made her feel like a vital, living woman again, made her forget all about her promise of devotion to her husband’s memory.

She wanted to feel Mike’s full, thick mouth on hers, taste him, revel in him. The guilt she expected to feel from her desires grew less each time they were together. Looking inward, wanting to see the regret her beliefs were supposed to bring, she found, instead, longing; yearning; craving. Not guilt; not shame; not remorse.

Just when she’d decided to give in to the passions he’d drawn from her, Mike seemed to change his mind and had stopped.

Why?

His bold need was mainly physical, she rationalized, while hers was much more. Men could extract sex from love. They were made that way. Hadn’t she written her own male characters in much the same light? Two emotions. Distinct. Separate.

Carly wasn’t able to separate them. Serena had been correct when she’d reminded her she could never be a one-night stand. It was necessary for Carly to feel something on an emotional level, something deeper, for a man other than as a way to release the tension building in her. In all truth, it was the main reason she’d led such a monastic, solitary life after Martin’s death.

No man she’d met had stirred emotions in her; made her want again; feel this sexually alive again. Admitting to herself she did feel more for Mike than simple passion, she could give herself up to him, have him fulfill all her erotic dreams and wants.

And there lay the problem.

Could she sleep with him, have an

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