Page 106 of Dark Angel
Yes, her heart leapt. Yes, he stole her breath. No, she did not care. This was lust. Just lust.
That’s it.
Standing behind her, he helped pull out pins. When she’d freed her hair, he ran his fingers through her scalp, massaging her head, and stroking her long hair.
She sighed. “Feels great.”
When he finished, he turned her toward him. Beyond the desire springing from his blackened eyes or the confidence rolling off him in tsunami-sized waves, it was his smile that turned her inside out.
And damn if she didn’t smile back.
He wrapped his arms around her ass, lifted her straight up.
“Duck,” he said, “or you’ll get conked on the door frame.”
She lowered her head as he carried her out of the bathroom and into the living room. Laughing, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt joy from utter silliness.
With her still in his arms—he stared up at her.
She ran her fingers through his wavy hair, appreciating the silky strands. “How tall am I?”
“I’m six-one, so you’re about six-seven.”
“I’d like to be tall,” she said. “I’m five-six.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Now you’re really getting personal,” she replied still staring down at him. “I’m thirty-two. What about you?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Ever been married?”
“No,” he replied. “You?”
“Only seven times. Three are dead, one is still missing, and the other three have gone into hiding.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I’m the black widow.”
He laughed. “You’re insane, you know that?”
“I’d have to be to welcome in the New Year with you, Mr. Santini.”
As she peered into his eyes, she felt the pull, the desire to mash her lips against his. Her insides roared to life, the lust raging through her.
She soaked up his almond-shaped eyes, his razor-straight nose, the worry lines etched into his forehead. She ran her fingertips over his dark eyebrows, then down his sculpted cheek and over his beard. But it was his light brown eyes that pulled her in… again and again.
“Let’s fuck,” she said.
“I think we’re doing more than that.”
Still captive in his arms, she stripped off her sweater. His gazedidn’tjump to her breasts, hidden behind her black bra. He was staring so intently into her eyes, she felt like her heart skipped a beat to be in sync with his.
If he was trying to do some kind of mind-meld with her, it wasn’t working… but yet it kind of was.
She tucked his untamed hair behind his ears, dipped down, and kissed him. A tender kiss that sent streaks of electricity thrumming through her. One kiss turned into another and another and then, he released a growl that reverberated between her legs.
That was the Gabriel Santini that she wanted. The monster, the boogieman, the thief in the night who steals your soul.
“Yessss,” she hissed as their kiss turned savage.
