Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1) Babette Jongh (easy books to read txt) 📖

“Content,” I answered.

“Good.” His voice rumbled, vibrating through his rib cage and into mine.

“What now? Are you kidnapping me to a hotel room?” A huge yawn took me by surprise.

Ian chuckled. “Ready for bed, are you?”

“Um-hmm.”

We reached the car, and Ian unlocked the doors. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Trying to decide whether to back out of my ultimatum.” Maybe honesty was the best policy, talking about my feelings and conflicts instead of trying to finesse the outcome of something I had no control over.

His hand strayed to my backside, caressing through my dress. “I can help you with that decision.”

I ignored his seeking hand. “I’m also tired. Please tell me you have a plan that includes sleeping in a warm bed soon.”

“I have a plan, sweetheart.” He ushered me into the car’s cold interior.

Less than a half-hour later, he opened our hotel room door, flipped on the lights, and dropped our bags onto the floor. “You take the bathroom first.” He launched himself at the bed and somehow landed perfectly aligned along one side with the remote control in one hand, the other hand pillowing his head. “I’ll see if there’s anything good on TV.”

I took a quick, hot bath, brushed my teeth, and slipped on my nightie. The flowing apricot silk had stretch-lace insets in all the right places. I brushed my hair upside down, then tossed my head to settle the strands in a soft cloud around my face. Maybe I would let him talk me into having sex. I could always claim afterward that he wore me down.

When I came into the room, Ian looked my way, his face arrested for a heartbeat. “My turn.” He took his toiletry bag off the dresser and moved past me. At the bathroom door, he turned back. “Here’s the remote.” He tossed it at me.

I caught it, climbed under the covers, turned off the TV, and closed my eyes. The shower came on and Ian started humming something off-key. Deliberately, I relaxed each part of my body, from my toes to the top of my head. I concentrated on slowing my breathing, so I could convincingly pretend to be asleep when he got out of the shower. I knew I’d give in, but I wanted him to have to work for it, just a little.

I relaxed myself right to sleep, and started to dream.

I was running down a black snake highway, chased by the big truck that had killed Melody. A dark wind pushed me from behind, set my hair flying about my face, obscuring my vision, stinging my skin.

Then Melody was clutching my arm, slowing me down, begging me to save her. “My children need me,” she cried. The truck kept coming, right behind us now. Mel’s fingers dug into my skin. “Casey, don’t let me die.”

All at once, I was lifted up off the black highway and into the sky. The strength and warmth of the arms around me became familiar and comforting. Ian’s strong arms. His warmth surrounding me. “Shhh,” he whispered, his warm breath close to my ear. “You’re all right. It’s just a dream.”

I slid my arms under his T-shirt, seeking the comfort of his skin. He lay down with me and pulled me close, arranging me into the curve of his body. My head was pillowed on his shoulder, my hands under his shirt, curled against his chest.

I spread my fingers over the rough-smooth feel of his sleek, muscular chest with its covering of springy hair. Turning toward him, I opened my mouth to taste the delicious spot between his neck and shoulder, the clean, soap-scented salt of his taut, warm skin.

Then I moved up, and up some more, until my lips touched his. The inside of his mouth was warm, like the rest of him. His arms tightened around me. He ran his tongue over my teeth and sleeked it inside, stroking my tongue.

I pulled his shirt up as far as I could get it, but his weight had the fabric trapped under him. “Ian, please.”

“Please, what?” He rolled me to my back. He sat astride my thighs, pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. I slid my hands upward from the flat, ridged wall of his stomach to the bulging curve of his pecs.

“Kiss me.”

His wide shoulders shadowed me as he claimed my mouth for another kiss. He caressed my face, sliding fingers along the seam of our kissing lips, down lower, skimming along my jaw, down to caress my breasts. I pushed down the waistband of his underwear, touching.

Grabbing my hands, he held them above my head on the pillow while his body covered mine. The hard heat of him beckoned through unwelcome layers of clothing. Teasing. Taunting. Torturing. I welcomed the pressure, but wanted more. I reached down again, trying to get rid of his damn underwear. “Ian, please.”

“What happened to your hands-off policy?” He brought my hands up again but held them more firmly this time, one strong hand encircling both my wrists.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe I was wrong.”

He stole my words with a kiss, sucking, devouring. His free hand skimmed down a length of apricot silk, pressing hard against my pubic bone. I moved against his hand, seeking the fulfillment his body denied me. “Please,” I said into his mouth.

“God, lass,” he whispered against my lips, “what you do to me...”

“Ian, I want you inside me.” I pulled against his restraining hold, but he held fast. “I need you there. Please...”

He let go of my wrists. Almost roughly, he pulled my panties down. I kicked them off then sat up a little so I could pull my nightgown up over my head. Ian took the scrap of silk and lace and tossed it on the floor. “Yes,” I murmured. This was more like it.

With an arm around my naked waist, he hauled me farther down the bed. His body raked down mine, raining kisses in a burning trail until his mouth finally