Free Angel at Dawn by Emma Holly Page A

petticoats.
    Grace sucked in her breath for a different reason. Her fingers clutched the back of his brown jacket. God, his shoulders were broad. She wanted to stroke them, to measure every firm inch of them with her palms. Heat flooded from her core as he rocked again and groaned softly. His head dropped closer, allowing his mouth to drag a burning tingle up the side of her neck.
    He was panting, light and quick, and that might have gotten her worst of all. What he was doing wasn’t only arousing her.
    He drew her earlobe between his teeth, the tiny sting of pressure unimaginably sexy. “Did you wear this dress for me?” he whispered. “Did you wonder what I’d think of you all in pink?”
    Lost in sensation, she shivered and arched and slid her hands to the bare skin beneath his tied-back hair. Christian shuddered, then retreated far enough to peer into her eyes.
    “Grace,” he said, and it was like he knew her, like her name was one he’d said many times before. She realized she’d had a similar impression when he clasped her hand outside the plane last night. What was he doing to her? And why was she letting him?
    “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breathy. Belatedly, she dropped her hands from his neck and pressed them flat to the wall. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
    “Fuck shouldn’t .” He kissed her with abrupt abandon, his tongue reaching deeply, sleekly into her mouth.
    She didn’t stop him. Couldn’t stop him. She made a sound like a kitten crying. All she wanted, truly wanted down to her soul, was that he’d never stop doing this. His kiss was wet and indescribably hungry, almost overpowering her ability to answer it. When she tried to, he groaned again, the rumble resonating in his chest as his head changed angles to delve deeper. The muscles of his thighs were shifting, pushing her off the floor until her weight hung on the ridge of his cock. She hadn’t known a man could do that, had never been held by one this strong. Each protracted thrust of his hips pushed her closer to climax, the rise of her pleasure as inexorable as it was intense.
    Christian must have sensed it. His breath came faster, and something moved in his mouth, something smooth and long that made him jerk with unexpected violence when her tongue brushed it. His arms tightened on her back like a vise. Grace had the feeling something irreversible was about to happen.
    “Christian,” Roy said from the living room. “Let the gal do her job.”
    Grace had forgotten Roy was around. To her slightly shamed disappointment, Christian wrenched his mouth off hers. For just a moment, his eyes were dazed. He’d look like this if he were in love , she thought. When the softness cleared, he began to glare.
    “Maybe this is her job,” he said, low and gravelly. “To torment me for her boss.”
    “It is not!” Incensed, Grace shoved at him until he took one step back. “You keep your hands to yourself.”
    “You touched me first.”
    “I was teasing,” she huffed, smoothing her skirt down where it belonged. “Being friendly. It wasn’t an invitation to maul me.”
    “Maul you!” The faintest wash of pink swept up Christian’s attractively hollow cheeks. By contrast, his lips were pressed whitely together. Amazingly, he didn’t prize them open to argue more. His jaw ticked like he was longing to.
    “Kids,” Roy broke in from behind them. “I believe you have an appointment you need to keep.”
    Grace was too angry and upset to agree. She stomped out to the car alone, trusting Christian would follow when he was ready.
    When he did, it should have gratified her that he couldn’t sit easily, that a flashlight-size hump was pushing out the front of his Levi’s. Sadly, all his condition did was make her squirm restlessly. There was simply no mistaking the substantiality of his manliness.
    “Drive,” he said once he’d shut the door. “I’d like to get this day over with.”
    Grace drove, doing her level best not to