No answer.
Her instincts kicked in.
Utilizing her recent flight training, she did a hard turn to her left and went up. Raphael shot by a bare millisecond later, missing her by a fraction of a feather. As he caught himself and turned to head back up, she swept right ... diving just when he’d come too far to stop. But this was an archangel she played with. He managed to run his fingers over her wings in teasing promise as she plummeted.
Strong, warm hands closing on the na**d skin of her waist. Too fast, hunter. A kiss pressed to the side of her neck as he rose up before releasing her. But when she would’ve turned to fly in another direction, he gripped her again, holding her na**d body flush against his semiclothed one.
Every tiny inch of her skin crawling with sensation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her br**sts to the muscled plane of his chest as he propelled them ever higher. “Kiss me, Archangel.”
Later.
Too hungry to listen to the order, she nipped at his throat, sucked and kissed until the hands on her waist squeezed, his erection a pulsing brand between them. Not yet, Elena. There was a hoarse quality to his mental tone, the glow coming off his wings sparking electric blue.
The sight threw a switch inside her—she wrapped her legs around Raphael’s waist, her wings tight to her back as she trusted him to hold her up. Then she concentrated on getting him to lower his head.
Bites along his jaw, nips over his throat, suckling kisses on his pulse. When that didn’t work, she ran a hand down to circle one flat male nipple. He gripped her hand, his hold shifting to her lower back, and for a moment, she thought she had him. Then his jaw firmed.
And he flew higher.
Higher.
Until they were well above the cloud layer, at an altitude where it should’ve been freezing cold. Except that the blaze coming off Raphael seemed to have created a cocoon around her—not that she needed the heat, not with angel-dust in every pore and every cell. She could feel herself lushly damp against his abdomen, wanted only to ride him until he begged for surrender.
“Raphael. Now.” It was a demand fueled by near-painful need.
He stopped.
High, high, high above the earth. Then, his mouth was on her own, stealing her breath. Ready?
Yes!
Clamping his arms tight around her, he angled them so they faced down toward the water, and then he . . . dropped.
She screamed into the kiss even as she felt an electric burn of heat against her and then the warm muscle of his suddenly unclothed body. He tumbled them over and over as they fell, and she would’ve been lost at the first tumble, but he held her in unyielding arms until there was no fear ... only the feel of him—hard and demanding sliding into the melting heat of her body.
Tiny shocks of pleasure radiated out from that most intimate of joinings.
Breaking the kiss to gasp in a breath, she saw the water coming at them at overwhelming speed. “Raphael!” A single pulse of fear before he executed a turn so sharp it thrust him soul-deep inside of her.
An overload of sensation. Crackling electricity across her skin.
Not fighting the agonizing bite of pleasure, she reclaimed his lips as he pushed them both through the clouds again, his body shifting with each wingbeat to caress her with excruciating intimacy. Clenching her fingers in his hair, she rubbed herself against the solid heat of his chest, needing, wanting, hungering.
Dance with me, Elena.
He bit at her lips when she squeezed her inner muscles in a sexual caress, kissing his way across her cheek and down her neck before he took her mouth again.
Then they fell once more.
She came apart on a scream halfway through the dive, every nerve in her body igniting with pleasure, with sensation, with the wild exhilaration of dancing with an archangel. Lights exploded behind her eyes, blue and gold and filled with the wicked, wicked glimmer of angel-dust. And all around her, she felt sleek, warm muscle, until she didn’t know where she ended and he began. With me, Archangel. A demand saturated in pleasure.
But I am not finished with you, Hunter.
He rose again, skimming so close to the water that she felt the spray cool and wet against her overheated skin.
Thigh muscles quivering like jelly, she locked her ankles at his lower back, resting her head in the curve of his neck. Too bad. I think I’m dead.
A laugh, husky and male in a way that shouted sex. It did something to her, that sound, blew air onto the embers of a passion so recently satisfied. Her skin stretched taut in anticipation, and she found herself kissing his neck again, caressing him every way she could. With her mouth, with her fingers, with the most secret parts of her body.
Elena. His hold tightened. Once more.
“Once more.” With that, she locked her mouth to his as they plummeted in a dizzying spiral awash in the erotic gold of angel-dust.
She was so focused on the male who owned her heart, her soul, that she didn’t see the sea rushing up at them until it was too late. Raphael! she screamed as they hit ... except there was no pain, and she was tumbling, tumbling down with her archangel, the water held at bay by a shield of shimmering light streaked with blue.
Heart thudding triple-time, she gripped his face. “Scaring me out of my wits is not good foreplay.”
Reaching between them as they came to a lazy stop, he touched the hot, slick bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs . . . and she threatened to fracture. Clenching her inner muscles, she met those eyes so much bluer than the Atlantic. Move.
One hand under her butt, the other on her back, the archangel decided to obey an order for once.
Then there was no more thought.
Raphael leaned on his forearm the next morning as he lay watching his consort sleep. Exhaustion had her limp, her arms curled around her pillow as she lay on her front. He smiled, running a single finger down the centerline of her back.