Kiss an Angel (20 page)

"Really? Are you sure?"

Her pleasure made him feel even guiltier. "I said you could, didn't I?"

"Yes! Yes, you did. Oh, thank you, Alex. I won't forget this."

Daisy slept through the first show, but to Alex's surprise, she appeared just as spec began for the second. Her two-hour nap had done wonders for her, and she looked more rested than she had in days. As he circled the arena on Misha, he could see her just ahead of him waving and throwing kisses at the children, oblivious to the effect she and her flame red costume were having on the children's fathers. Alex had to resist the urge to take out a few John Deere caps with his bullwhip.

When the show ended, he went to the trailer so he could make a quick change from his costume into work clothes. Usually Daisy would already have changed by now, but this time she wasn't around.

Feeling uneasy, he dressed hurriedly, then made his way back over to the big top. A flash of red sequins near the marquee in the front caught his attention, and he saw his wife surrounded by three good-looking townies. They were all behaving courteously toward her, and she certainly wasn't in any danger, but he still wanted to smash his fist right through their smug, young faces.

One of them said something and she laughed, the sound a bubble of music floating on the night air. He cursed under his breath.

"What are you so pissed off about?"

As Brady came up behind him, Alex forced himself to relax. "What makes you think I'm pissed off?"

Brady popped a toothpick into the corner of his mouth. "The way you're looking at those townies."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I can't figure you, Alex. I didn't think you cared anything about her."

"Lay off."

''Matter of fact, I'd just about decided to talk to you about her." He transferred the toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. "I figure, even though she's a thief and you seem to hate her guts, you don't have the right to work a pregnant woman so hard."

"Who told you she was pregnant?"

''We all just figured. The night of the surprise party, you didn't exactly look like a happy bridegroom."

Alex clenched his jaw. "She's not pregnant."

The toothpick drooped in Brady's mouth. "Then why the hell did you marry her?"

"None of your damn business." He stalked away.

It was a little before midnight when they were done working. As usual, when he entered the trailer, Daisy was asleep, but instead of being tucked away in a nest of rumpled sheets as she normally was, she lay on the couch in her costume, almost as if she had sat down for a few minutes and dozed off without planning to. He decided it was one thing to toughen her up, but it was another to drive her to the end of her strength, and at that moment he knew he couldn't keep working her so hard. As far as he was concerned, she'd paid her debt to society, and it was time to ease up.

Her dark hair fell onto the couch pillow in silky streamers, and her lips were slightly parted. She slept on her stomach, and his mouth went dry as he saw that sweet little ass sticking up, covered only by the diamond-patterned web of her black fishnet stockings. The narrow ribbon of sequins at the center made the sight that much more alluring. Forcing himself to look away, he stripped off his clothes, stalked into the bathroom, and plunged into an ice-cold shower.

The noise of the running water must have awakened her because, when he came out wrapped in a towel, she stood at the sink with his blue terry cloth robe tossed on over her costume. Although she'd turned up the sleeves, her small hands barely peeked out from beneath the cuffs as she opened a loaf of rye bread.

' 'Would you like me to fix you a sandwich?' She sounded more chipper than she had in days. "I fell asleep before I could eat, and now I'm hungry."

His robe parted, showing the curves of her breasts beneath the sequin flames on her costume. He dragged his eyes away and instead of thanking her for the offer, snapped at her. "If Sheba catches you lying around in one of her costumes, she'll have your hide."

"Then I'll just have to make sure she doesn't catch me."

The renewed spirit in her voice lifted his own mood. "I guess you can't be expected to learn everything at once."

She turned, but whatever she had been about to say seemed to die on her lips.

Her gaze trailed down over his chest to the pale yellow bath towel looped low on his hips.

He wanted to yell at her, to tell her not to look at him like that unless she wanted to find herself on her back. His flagging self-control slipped another notch.

"Would you—uh—like your robe back?" she asked.

He nodded.

She tugged on the sash, slipped out of it, and passed it over to him.

He let it fall to the floor.

She stared at him. "I thought you wanted it."

"I wanted it off you."

She licked her lips, and he watched her struggle for a response. Even as he called himself every kind of fool, he knew he couldn't stay away from her for another night.

"I'm not sure exactly what you mean by that," she said hesitantly.

"I mean that I don't think I'm going to be able to keep my hands off you any longer."

"I was afraid that's what you meant." She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

"I'm sorry, but I've decided I can't do that with you. It wouldn't be right."

"Why is that?"

"Because it wouldn't be sacred. I place value on making love. It's not something I would do with just anyone."

"I'm glad to hear it." Pulled by a force he couldn't resist, he walked over to her.

She drew back against the counter, even as she continued to meet his eyes. "I couldn't do it casually."

"I hope this means I don't have to worry about catching any of those nasty little sexually transmitted diseases you mentioned to that waitress a couple weeks ago."

"Of course not!"

"Good. You don't have to worry about me, either. I'm clean as a whistle."

"That's very nice for you, but—"

"Has anyone ever mentioned that you talk too much?" He set the heels of his hands on the counter behind her, effectively trapping her.

"We need to talk about this. It's important. It's—"

"What we need to do is stop talking." He cupped her waist with his hands.

"We've played cat and mouse long enough, angel face. Don't you think it's time we get serious?"

Her perfume drifted up to tantalize him. He gazed down at her body, so enticingly revealed by the skimpy flame red sequin costume, and her soft breathing stirred the hair on his chest.

"How-—how can you even think about doing something like this with a person you don't respect?"

Her eyes drifted shut as he dipped his head and nuzzled the side of her neck with his lips. "Why don't you let me worry about that?"

"You think I'm a thief."

"Let's just say I've cooled down a little."

She tilted her face up to his, and another pang of guilt struck him as her violet eyes came alive with joy and her soft, silly mouth curled with pleasure. "You believe me! You know I didn't steal the money!"

He hadn't said that. He was simply no longer as angry. Although he couldn't condone what she'd done,

he knew she'd been desperate, and he no longer wanted to serve as her hanging judge.

"I believe you're sexy as hell." He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and found it moist to his touch. "Are you taking care of birth control, or do you want me to do it?"

Her eyes flared. "I'm on the pill, but—"

"That's good."

He dipped his head and caught her mouth beneath his own. It quivered. God, she was sweet. She must have nibbled one of the ripe plums in the bag on the counter because he tasted the fruit on her breath.

Her lips parted a bit, but the movement was hesitant, as if she were still making up her mind. He found something infinitely exciting about her tentative, uncertain welcome. At the same time, he knew he wasn't going to give her any more time to think, and he drew her closer.

Outside the small world of the trailer, the first drops of rain began to fall, hitting the metal shell with gentle taps. The sound was soothing and hypnotic.

The patter of the rain somehow isolated them, set them apart from everyone else in the universe and gave them a private place.

Daisy sighed as she felt Alex's kiss, gentle and patient. The icon he wore rubbed against her, and as the tip of his tongue brushed the sensitive inner surface of her bottom lip, warm honey poured through her veins. In that moment all her principles evaporated, and any idea she'd had of denying him disappeared. From the beginning she'd wanted him like this, and she could no longer resist the force that pulled her toward him.

Opening her mouth, she let him in.

He took his time invading her, and when he did, his kiss was deep and full. She responded with fervor, and he let her play as she wished.

She used her tongue on him and her lips, kissed the corners of that hard mouth, delved inside again. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and, standing on tiptoe, nipped his earlobe. She left little teeth marks at the corner of his jaw before she returned to plunge inside his mouth.

Enter and play.

Withdraw and explore.

Inside again.

Her excitement mounted, fueled by the rasp of his breathing and the feel of his hands clasping her so tightly, one at her waist, one splayed across her back.

How could she ever have been afraid of him? The image of the whips stored beneath the bed flicked through her mind, but she pushed them aside. He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't.

She licked a sweet trail from his neck to his chest and poked the tip of her tongue through the dark hair that dusted his pectorals until she could press her lips to the skin beneath. His breathing came more rapidly now, and when he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse.

"If this is the way you kiss, angel, I can't wait to see how you—" He moaned as she found his nipple.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and one of her fingers caught in the gold chain that held the icon. This game of hot kisses and new touches was so delicious she couldn't get enough of it. His body was hers to explore, and she yearned to see every inch of it.

"I want to take off your towel," she whispered.

His fingers sank into her hair.

She reached for the knot, only to have him press his hand over hers. "Not so fast, sweetheart. First you've got to show me something."

"What do you want to see?"

"I'll let you choose."

"In this costume, I think I've already shown off just about everything I have."

"Maybe I want a closer look."

She'd known sex could be exciting, but she hadn't expected the sensuous teasing note in his voice. It flashed through her mind that perhaps she should confess that she was a virgin, but then he'd think she was a freak. And he'd never know if she didn't tell him. Contrary to romantic fiction, fragile maidenheads didn't survive twenty-six years of physical activity and doctors'

exams.

Tilting back her head, she watched his eyes roam over her as she stood before him in her showgirl's costume, and she found the idea of playing the experienced femme fatale infinitely exciting. She'd read lots of books, so maybe she could even pull it off. What could she do that was naughty?

She turned her back to him, trying to give herself a moment to think, and in the process saw that the limp blue curtains hanging on the small window just above the kitchen table weren't closed all the way. She doubted anyone would be passing by in the rain, but just in case, she hurried over. Bracing one hand on the Formica top, she leaned across the table to close them.

She heard a muffled sound behind her, almost like a groan. "Good choice, sweetheart."

She had no idea what he was talking about until she felt him come up behind her and rub against her out-thrust bottom. He massaged the flesh through its diamond-shaped veil of fishnet. Her nipples tightened and her skin grew flushed at the unfamiliar sensation. At the same time, her nervousness escalated. No matter what she wanted him to believe, she had no experience with ordinary lovemaking,

let alone anything exotic.

One of his fingertips slipped beneath the strip of sequins and traced the cleft of her bottom. She bit her lips to keep from crying out with pleasure. His touch crept lower.

Unable to take any more, she wiggled upright and turned in his arms. "I—I want to kiss again."

He groaned. "Your kisses are a little more than I can handle right now." He adjusted the knot at his belly, and she saw that the towel no longer lay flat against him. As a matter of fact, it wasn't even close to being flat.

She stared and her mouth felt dry. "I st-still want to kiss."

"We'll negotiate. You open up the hook on the back of that costume, and we'll kiss all you want."

She reluctantly raised her eyes from the towel and lifted her arms to unfasten the hook. As it opened, the bodice began to fall away. She clasped it to her chest.

He ducked his head, brushed her lips, and took one of her wrists in each of his hands. As his tongue slipped into her mouth, the costume fell to her waist. He backed her against the wall on the far side of the table, drew her wrists upward, and pinioned them on each side of her head.

"Not fair," she whispered into his mouth as he held her against the wall.

"You're stronger than I am."

"It's my turn to play," he whispered back.

And play he did.

Keeping her wrists gently pinioned, he used only his mouth to excite her. He nibbled at her earlobe and the side of her neck. He nipped at her collarbone and the base of her throat. But then he drew back just far enough to be able to gaze down at her body.

Her position against the wall had tipped up the crests of her breasts. He toyed with first one, then the other, suckling until the pool of heat inside her burned so fiercely she could hardly bear it.

"Stop," she gasped. "Let me go."

He immediately released her wrists. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, but—you're going too fast."

"Too fast?" He regarded her with a crooked smile. "Are you criticizing my technique?"