Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) - By Stacy Gail Page 0,48
a growing desire that wouldn’t shut up, Ella ignored the stifling bedclothes and instead lay down on top of the scratchy blanket with her back to him. “Good night.”
“What about that spectacular male glory you mentioned? I’m interested in hearing just how spectacular you think my male glory is.”
Oh, please. “Since you’ve made it abundantly clear the feeling isn’t mutual, you can speculate on that all by your lonesome and leave me the hell out of it. Now go to bed.”
“Bed, huh? Well, normally I’m not into pushy women, but for you I suppose I can make an exception.”
If she hadn’t been lying down already, she would have fallen over in shock when the rickety bed groaned in protest as he stretched out beside her. “What the hell are you—”
“Don’t blame me, you started this. I’d have to hand in my official Red-Blooded Guy membership card if I didn’t at least try to find a way to persuade you to finish it.”
The bed squealed as she jerked to a sitting position, and it took every ounce of will she had not to openly drool over the picture he made. Shirtless and with his sweatpants riding low on lean hips, Nate reclined with his bare feet crossed at the ankles and his muscle-sculpted arms folded behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Then he smiled at her, a singularly predatory smile of a wolf eyeing a plump little lamb, and her belief in his disinterest died a quick death. A world of hunger burned in his eyes, and there was no doubt it was on the verge of flaring out of control.
“You need an operating manual,” she heard herself say. It was the only thing she could do to cover how her heart rate zoomed into a beat that made flamenco seem pokey. “I need step-by-step instructions on how your system works. One minute you’re the protective big brother, the next you’re a stand-offish cold fish, and a moment after that you’re doing your best impression of the king of gigolos. Who are you going to be next?”
“I’ll always be the guy who protects you. Though I have to say, you’re an idiot if you think there’s anything brotherly about me.”
“Do I look like an idiot?”
“You look like you need to work out some serious frustration. It just so happens I’m up to the task of helping you out.” He sent a significant glance down his body, and on automatic her gaze followed his. Despite the gloom of only one bedside lamp in the next room, Ella had no trouble making out the rigid thrust of his erection barely covered by the loosely drawn sweatpants.
Hello.
A flood of heat swamped her, hitting so hard and fast she could have easily believed she was suffering a delirium-inducing fever. Though suffering was hardly right, and she couldn’t stop the relieved smile as she glanced back at him. He remained statue-still, his heavy-lidded eyes trained on her face like a big cat waiting to pounce.
Waiting.
She had no clue what he was waiting for.
“I’m fresh out of engraved invitations.” As if in slow motion she turned to face him, curling her legs underneath her while the bed wheezed and squawked. “Let me guess—you’re shy.”
A low breath escaped him, whether a laugh or a moan she couldn’t be sure. “If you were anyone else I would already be inside you, and you’d be screaming my name for all the neighbors to hear.”
Her inner heat elevated to the level just below insanity, and the cleft between her thighs swelled with a dampness that made her squirm. Wasn’t he a confident one. “So...what then? What is it about me that makes you hold back?”
“You matter to me.”
Ella stilled as the impact of the words arrowed straight through her to settle in her very core, glowing with such sweet purity it all but crushed the breath from her. “You’re not hesitating because you think I’m...” She made herself say the words that had been lurking like a poisonous snake in the back of her mind. “Damaged goods?”
“No.”
The immediacy of his response killed the snake outright. “Is it because I’m scarred?”
“I have scars on my back too.”
She knew he had seen her when she first came out of the woods. But she had to be sure. “Charles Rainier...he carved wings into my back.”
“My mother hacked mine off.” His arms remained folded behind his head while the eyes he trained on her all but glowed with