Angel Eyes - Angel Eyes Part 12
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Angel Eyes Part 12

He studied her, then scratched his mouth before leaning closer to her. "Great enough I wish now I'd stayed in the hotel instead of in the bed and breakfast."

"Aw." A twinkle lit her eyes.

The waiter came and removed their plates and Rogan wondered again what she really thought of him.

She tapped her fingers on the tabletop.

He took a chance. "You know, I saw this great spot out riding today."

"Did you now?"

His eyes locked with hers, and he leaned closer until he could brush his lips across hers. "Wanna see it?"

"The place or something else?" she whispered.

"Anything you want."

Her laugh was husky and real. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

He sighed and stood, tossed a couple of twenties on the table, then held out his hand. She held his hand and he walked them out. In no time they were back on the bike, rolling through the night. He took the curves, remembering the road soon turned from pavement to an oiled dirt road. Soon they were parked by the river. He cut the engine and waited, felt her warm and pressed against his back, her thighs cradling his, her arms around his waist.

"I love this bike."

He stood, then turned and sat back down on it, facing her. Rogan didn't say a word.

She licked her lips and unhooked the helmet from under her chin, pulling it off and tossing her hair. He reached up and unpinned it, let the rest of it fall around her face. "You're very beautiful."

She smiled faintly, the full moon shining down on them.

The river trickled near by and something howled in the distance.

"You scared of coyotes?" she asked.

"Nope. Not much scares me anymore."

She leaned closer to him. "Such a guy. I bet you have all sorts of lines you feed to girls."

"You're very distrusting."

She shrugged. "Maybe so, but then I don't have to worry about being crapped on or betrayed, do I?"

He tsked and cupped her face, running his thumb from her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth. Back and forth, until finally she leaned into his palm. "Would you believe me if I told you you're the first woman I've been interested in in almost three years?"

She blinked. "Going straight again?"

He chuckled. "No. Always have been straight. Just went through a rough patch."

She frowned. "Sorry, that wasn't very nice of me. Everyone is entitled to their privacy."

"So we are."

"You want to talk about it?"

He thought about it, then shook his head. "No. You?"

She closed the distance between them and stopped just short of kissing him. "No." Her breath whispered against his mouth.

Then her lips pressed against his, opened and she teased the seam of his mouth with her tongue.

Rogan tensed then relaxed, his blood warming and humming through his veins. He opened under her exploration and let her lead.

She kissed like she did everything else. Full of passion, with just a hint of hesitation. She angled her head and scooted closer.

Cora pulled back for a moment and looked at him. Then she picked one leg up and draped it over his, the other quickly followed, so that she straddled his thighs. "Are we going to tip over?"

He jerked her closer so she was sitting right on top of him, his erection cradled against her. "With the kickstand down and my feet on the ground?" He shook his head. "No. Not unless we get to rocking on the bike."

Her smile dimpled her cheeks. "We'll have to try that some day. Maybe when I'm in a skirt."

He cupped her bottom and leaned in, nuzzling her neck, smelling again the scent of warm vanilla that surrounded her. "You know, I didn't bring you out here to make out."

She laughed and he felt the rumble against his lips. "Didn't you?"

He shook his head. "Hoped, but planned on, no." He kissed a trail from her pulse at the base of her neck to ear. He gently pulled it between his teeth. "Why, you want to make out?"

She wiggled against him, tilted her head even more. "Does this answer your question?"

"You're a complex woman, Cora O'Donnell." He stroked his hand up her back to cup the nape of her neck.

"Are you always this chatty?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair.

He licked the swirls of her ear, made sure the stubble of his goatee rubbed her neck, and was rewarded with her shudder. "I'm a reporter, remember?"

"So will everyone get to read all the details of our time at the local make out spot in tomorrow's early edition?"

He kissed his way from her ear, the corner of her eye, to her mouth. "We're not going to be up for the early edition." He licked her top lip, her bottom lip, smiling when she opened for him. "And if we are, I'm sure as hell not going to be writing."

The kiss went from teasing to demanding on both their parts. Tongues met, demanded, and slid away to return and demand more. Hands fisted in hair.

He held her with an arm around her, while he caressed her waist, finding the bottom of her shirt. He just wanted to feel her skin. Bare skin against his hand.

The side of her stomach tensed as he eased the edge of the shirt up and gently raked his fingers over the exposed flesh.

She tilted her head and deepened the kiss.

Rogan met her kiss for kiss, not sure if he wanted to lead or see where she'd lead him.

He moved his hand from under her shirt to rub the silky material between his palm against her skin. Up her torso, over her ribs, to cup her breast. The nipple was already pebbled and hard against his palm. He wanted it more so. Easily, gently, he rubbed the cool silk against her distended peak, kissing her, holding her. When he took the nipple between his fingers and rolled it between the silk and his fingers, she shuddered and moaned in his mouth.

"Easy," he whispered.

She pulled back and licked her lips, then kissed him gently, whispering, "It's been awhile."

He smiled against her. "Good, then we're on equal ground."

Cora moved to wrap her hands around his neck, but he shook his head. "No, lean back against the bitch seat."

A frown creased her brow. "The bitch seat?" She chuckled, but she slowly leaned back so she was almost laying down, her shoulders propped up by the incline of the back seat.

Her wide eyes watched him in the moonlight. She still straddled his widespread thighs. He ran his palms from her thighs up over her hipbones, over her torso to circle around her breasts.

She lay watching him, her arms up and holding the curved bitch bar above her head.

He grinned at her as he raked his fingers back down to her waist and slowly raised the bottom of her shirt.

Cool air brushed over her skin, making her shiver. But she wasn't cold. It had been too long. Way too long.

Desire thrummed through her blood stream and she wished like hell they'd planned better and brought a blanket or something. But she wasn't about to mention it now.

He pushed her shirt up, baring her stomach, her ribs, and finally her breasts. She wanted to cover herself, but kept her hands on the smooth curve of metal.

She licked her lips. "If I'm laying on the bitch seat, what's the bar called?"

His hands didn't pause. "Bitch bar."

She grinned.

In the moonlight, his hair was black, a bit too long, his profile unforgiving and chiseled. Then he shifted and moonlight glanced off his eyes. Her blood heated even more.

His hands, warm against her cooling skin, rubbed softly, then harder. He cupped her breasts, traced the undersides with his fingers, around and around the centers. Rogan leaned over and blew warm air across her stomach, then licked a path up and around until he pulled a nipple into his mouth. His tongue was warm.

She arched.

The coarse hair of his goatee and mustache tickled and scraped her skin.

One hand still held her, squeezing her hipbone. She'd always been sensitive on and around her hipbones. He squeezed again as he pulled her nipple harder and deeper into his warm mouth. The wind chilled down the fertile canyon and across her. She shivered and reached for him, running her fingers through his hair.

"Rogan."

The hand on her hipbone was working the side fastener of her pants. She could feel it and wondered, but he easily unhooked the clasp and slid the zipper down. His hand was slightly chilled as he caressed over her lower abdomen.

She wanted this. Looking up at the moon, she knew she wanted this.

His fingers, long and deft, found the edge of her panties. He slid back and forth until he was under the elastic and through her curls. The cool of his fingers contrasted almost violently to the hot, wet heat of her.

She moaned and arched. "Here. I want you here."

He pulled away from her breast to lick his way to the other. "Here?"

Without warning, a long finger pierced her just as his hot mouth closed over her cold nipple, sucking deep.

She gasped. "Now. Now, Rogan."

He only looked up at her from under his lashes. "Good things come to those who wait."

"Screw that," she hissed as his thumb feathered across the bundle of nerves straining for release.

"Oh, I plan to screw something."

She laughed and went to work on his shirt, quickly unbuttoning it, jerking it from his slacks. When she could feel the heat of his skin, she jerked him down or tried to. But still it didn't work. With a frustrated mutter, she reared up, almost unseating them. Her cool chest met his much warmer one and she smiled at his quick intake of breath.

"Did you bring a condom?"

He arched a brow. "I listen to my elders, thank you."

His hand was still buried between her legs and she felt him add another finger to the first deep inside her.

"Oh God," she moaned, and threw her head back as he started to stroke her.

"You're so ready."

"I know!" Frustration laced with need.

"Shhh." He kissed her neck, up her chin to her mouth. "Just relax. Enjoy."

"I want you," she said, just as he stroked deeper and flicked his thumb again over her sensitive center of nerves.

"You'll have me." He stroked her deep, circled her nerves.

Straining, she thought she could hold it back, thought she could wait for...

Without warning, she came, pulsing and clasping his hand.

Cora dropped her head on his shoulder, panting. Still he stroked her, easing her now instead of building her back up.

Then he was pulling free, jerking her to her feet to stand on one side of the bike and pulling her clothes off. The wind, cool before, was cold now.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Reason might be slow in coming but...

Rogan unbuckled his belt and his pants. His chest was muscled, toned with a thatch of hair between his pectoral muscles, veeing down to his groin. She could only watch as he dug in his pocket and pulled out a foil wrapper.

She cocked a brow and waited, though cold. "Hurry up."

He shook his head. "All the time I've had this bike..."

In no time, he was sitting back on the bike, still dressed for the most part, and she was naked. It was strangely arousing. He pulled her back down on top of him. The denim of his jeans was warm and textured beneath her smooth thighs. "I'd planned to do this in a bed tonight."

She smiled against him, as she shifted, raising enough to position him. "Oh we'll do it in a bed too. You said something about early and not writing."