Sensuous Angel

by Heather Graham

  “Yes…yes…Donna. Touch me…love me….”

  The deep rasp of his tone thrilled her. She had never felt such sensations, nor had she known the bounds of her own sensuality. Hesitancy was lost, inhibition fell to the flame of her desire and love. She touched and loved him, knew him, held him, explored, and savored his groans, his hoarse whispers, and the knowledge that she drove him to a fever pitch. She slid to her knees, leaving no part of him unloved, until he buckled down before her, grasping her into his arms and laying her before the fire. He rose over her, his lips touching her forehead…her nose…her mouth…then falling to her breast. She whimpered with the sensation as the hardened peak was drawn into his mouth, bathed with the lash of his tongue, drawn inward once again. His dark head moved lower, his tongue delved into her navel, swept her abdomen.

  “Luke….”

  She tried to grab his hair. The sensations were becoming so exquisite that she could hardly bear it.

  “Do unto others…” he whispered huskily.

  “Ohhh….”

  She didn’t feel the hard floor, she felt only his touch and her response. Her body began to move, arching, writhing. His kisses flowed over her, through her, into her while the erotic touch of his hands cupped over and adored her breasts. At last she sobbed out his name, and he hovered over her once again, his eyes catching the flame as they stared into hers. He didn’t speak then, he moved purposely, shifting, coming into her, a stroke that united them with a sweet and shuddering force. His body closed over hers like a velvet blanket, moving with it, an undulating power that encaptured her heart and soul and passions in a tumultuous rhythm.

  Her lashes lifted slightly. She saw a flicker of burning gold and red. A flame in the fire. Reaching…high…just as she did. Something beckoned, deliciously elusive, a pinnacle that had to be reached. And then time hung suspended. Sensation filled her like sweet wine. She drifted, quaking, floating, holding on to the moments of fulfillment and awesome beauty.

  She stared at him with that same awe as he lifted his head, stroking a damp tendril of hair from her face. He lifted a brow, and she smiled demurely, lowering her lashes.

  “Bless you, Father,” she murmured chastely.

  His laughter filled her. “I’m glad to see you’ve gotten over the fact that I’m a priest.”

  Donna looked up at him and innocently ran a finger through the hair on his chest. “I never knew just how ‘divine’ life could be.”

  “Didn’t you?” he teased, catching her hand, kissing her fingers, swathing them erotically with his tongue.

  Her smile faded, her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes met his intently, “No,” she whispered seriously.

  He released her hand and stood. She marveled at the taut beauty of his body as it was silhouetted by the fire.

  She didn’t have long to allow her eyes that lazy pleasure. He reached down, sweeping her into his arms. Donna laced her arms around his neck, her eyes locked with his.

  “Mrs. Trudeau,” he said lightly, “I want to spend the entire night showing you just how divine life can be. But in the bedroom. I’d hate to have you unable to function because of rug burns when we do leave for our honeymoon.”

  “Can we still go?” Donna cried.

  “Umm. We’ll just be a day short.”

  “I’ll make it up to you,” Donna promised.

  “Yes,” he said in mock anger. “I intend that you will.”

  She chuckled as he raised a diabolical brow. But as his long strides carried them down the hallway, she touched his cheek.

  “You’ve known a lot of women, haven’t you, Luke?”

  He sighed. “I’ve told you, Donna, I’m not a saint, and I wasn’t born a priest. I’m afraid that you’re far more the angel than I am. A sensuous angel, at that.”

  His foot nudged open the bedroom door. Donna felt herself encompassed by the softness of the bed, made warm by the heat of his body.

  “I love you, Luke,” she whispered.

  “Donna…I love you. I can’t tell you how much…ever.”

  “Show me…please.”

  “What…a…divine request.”

  His words were broken as his kisses seared her flesh once again. His hands moved on her, showing her breasts an absolute adoration.

  “I’ve never felt more…moral.” Donna gasped. “Or”—she breathed to him with an erratic whisper a moment later—“more deliciously…wickedly…

  Excitedly…

  Delightedly fulfilled and Loved.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LUKE SAT BACK IN his chair, idly drumming his fingers over the desk rather than the typewriter that sat before him. He was supposed to be writing his Sunday sermon. But it was hard to write a sermon when he’d just returned from his honeymoon.

  A week in the sun. Blue skies, bleached sand beaches, an aqua surf. A small cottage with complete privacy…Donna. The two of them making love on that bed of damp sand beneath that brilliant sky…beneath a benign moon. In the crystal-clear water….

  A little tap sounded at his door and he started. “Yes?”

  Donna popped her head in, then entered. They had left the heat and clear skies behind them; winter had come, with its first snow, which had immediately turned to a grimy slush. Donna was no longer clad in a skimpy bikini, a strapless sundress—or nothing at all. But the sweater she wore molded provocatively to the fullness of her breasts, and being well acquainted with the lush mounds that lurked beneath it, her appearance did little to dispel the sexy thoughts that had come to him with his memory of the island.

  “Hi,” she said cheerfully. “What are you doing?”

  “Writing a sermon,” he told her.

  She glanced over his shoulder, frowning as she saw the blank piece of paper. “There’s nothing written,” she told him.

  “I know,” he said, meeting her eyes with his own gleaming wickedly. “It’s hard to write a sermon on today’s morals when you can’t get your mind off your wife’s—” His eyes dropped, level with her breasts. He hesitated, then raised them again, his mouth slanted in a crooked grin. “…face.”

  “That’s a problem, isn’t it?” Donna teased, crawling onto his lap.

  He laughed, playing idly with her hair. “I’m not going to get very far at this rate.”

  “You weren’t getting very far to begin with.”

  “That’s true,” Luke murmured, and again his eyes seemed to sizzle into hers. “But if you’re going to continue to distract me, lady, I’m going to demand the goods.”

  She instantly tried to shimmy from his lap but Luke refused to let her go. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Luke, Mary—”

  “Mary never interrupts me when I’m…working. We can lock the door.”

  “Luke—”

  She didn’t get far with her interruption. He stood quickly, muscles bunching as he carried her with him to slip the lock on the door. “You’re crazy!” Donna moaned.

  “Hmmm…” He murmured, setting her on her feet. His hands slipped beneath the wool of her sweater as his lips settled heatedly over hers. He was crazy, but wonderfully so. He caressed her breast as his lips moved enticingly, his tongue parting her teeth. Donna gave up all thought of resistance and slipped her arms around his neck, meeting his tongue with her own, luxuriating in the shiver of desire that shot through her.

  “Ah…hemm. Knock, knock.”

  With a horrified start, Donna broke the kiss, spinning about in Luke’s arms. Andrew had just come through the window.

  “Andrew!” Luke exploded, a true edge to his voice. “Damn it, Andrew, this has to stop!”

  “I know, I know, listen, I’m really sorry, but it’s important.”

  Donna stared at her brother-in-law. As usual, his clothing was less than tasteful—a moth-eaten hat over his unruly hair and an old navy coat. She wanted to throw something at him, but that desire faded as she quickly scanned his features. He looked so tired, strained and tired. Not even his apologetic grin could wipe away his look
of exhaustion.

  “It’s okay, Andrew,” she said.

  “No, it’s not, Donna, but I appreciate your saying so.” He gazed from her to his brother. “Luke, I’ve got to talk to you.”

  Donna twisted to see her husband’s face, waiting tensely. She had read the inference in Andrew’s voice, the words left out. I’ve got to talk to you alone, was what he meant to say.

  And what she wanted Luke to say in return was that she was his wife, that he didn’t keep secrets from her. That whatever Andrew had to say he could say with her there….

  “Donna, will you excuse us.”

  It wasn’t a question at all, not by the tone of his voice. It was a command.

  “Didn’t you say earlier that you had some accounts to look over for your father?” he continued.

  That was point blank. If she were to insist on staying she was certain he would just as politely remove her by force.

  She didn’t say anything, but stiffened in his arms, then stepped past him, her back ramrod straight as she headed toward the door.

  “Oh, Donna!” It was Andrew. She turned to see that he had an envelope raised high in his hand. “I almost forgot.”

  “From Lorna?” she exclaimed.

  “Yes.”

  She grabbed the envelope, said “thank you” as she left the room and the door open behind her. But before she had traveled halfway down the hall to her bedroom, she heard it click closed and the lock was snapped again.

  Her mind was torn between anger at Luke’s behavior and excitement over the note. She perched on the bed and tore open the envelope.

  Donna,

  I heard that I delayed your honeymoon, and I’m ever so sorry! I was just going so stir crazy with all the solitude! I don’t think I cared if anything happened to me or not, if I could only get out! And I wanted to see your wedding so badly.

  Well, at least I did manage to see the wedding. Please tell Luke that I’m sorry, too. He’s a great man, Donna, just what you deserve.

  Pity that his brother isn’t more like him!

  If only I hadn’t run! Oh, Donna, all I saw was the lurking shadow. I had no idea it was you. I’m so accustomed to running and hiding. If this doesn’t end soon, I will go insane.

  Enough about me. I’m trying to tell you how happy I am for you, and I sound like a consumer complaint catalogue instead. Donna, the very best. I’m thrilled, and I can’t wait to be invited to dinner!

  All my love,

  Lorna

  Donna pensively refolded the letter, a little smile curving her lips. It sounded just like Lorna to elude a set of guards and steer her own course. “But don’t be so reckless!” Donna whispered aloud, as if Lorna could hear her thoughts.

  She lay back on the bed, casting an elbow over her eyes as she closed them. It must be horrible for Lorna. The solitude, the waiting. How long could it go on? It had already been months.

  She sighed, frowning again as she thought about Lorna’s comments regarding Luke and Andrew. Donna had liked Andrew despite everything. She had to assume, if Andrew had been designated Lorna’s keeper, that the friction between them rose because of circumstances. Still, she felt more than a little angry with her brother-in-law herself.

  But not as furious and frustrated as she felt toward her husband. She was tired of blind trust. Andrew had come because he wanted something, not because he needed the confidentiality of a confession!

  “Oh, there you are.”

  Donna started, swinging up as Luke spoke to her, leaning against the door frame.

  “What was that all about?” she demanded.

  “Oh, nothing important. Listen, I’ve got to go out for a few minutes. If you’re hungry, go ahead and eat without me. I won’t be real late, though.”

  “Out?” Donna frowned as she quizzed him. “I thought that you had to finish your sermon tonight.”

  “I have to go out. I didn’t come in for your permission. I wanted a wife, not a warden. I just told you, I won’t be late.”

  Stunned, she stared after his back as he turned away from her. She heard his footsteps echo as he moved down the hall.

  So much for a marriage made in heaven, she thought bitterly, belatedly reminding herself that she had always known she didn’t really understand many things about him. But he had practically slapped her in the face with his words!

  She sprang from the bed, coldly determined to find out what was going on. She wasn’t a warden, and she hadn’t been acting like one. She was his wife, and although she knew realistically that their lives couldn’t be a continual honeymoon, she wasn’t going to be rudely shunted aside for asking a concerned question!

  Donna heard Luke call something to Mary, then the front door closed.

  Impetuously she grabbed her coat and purse and raced after him. “Be back soon, Mary!” she called out, exiting and closing the front door as quickly as Luke, determined not to lose sight of her husband.

  She hadn’t. He was walking toward the corner, hailing a cab. A feeling of déjà-vu assailed her. She had done this all very recently—put herself into a perilous position and caused a rash of trouble.

  She paused; she had no right to be following him but she loved him, and she couldn’t stand sensing that there was something she didn’t know about him.

  Donna hurried down the street, glad that at least it wasn’t raining. A cab approached and she hailed it.

  A feeling of déjà-vu assailed her again when the cabbie asked her destination and she told him to follow the cab ahead. He emitted a sardonic sigh as he took off.

  Luke’s cab wasn’t hard to follow. It led a fairly straight course, zigzagging only at the end of its journey, arriving at the police station.

  Puzzled, Donna watched her husband as he walked up the steps and entered the door.

  “Seven fifty,” the cabbie told her.

  Donna paid him and exited the cab, uncertain of what to do next. She wanted to follow him in but she didn’t want him to see her.

  She entered the chaotic station house. There was no sight of Luke.

  “Can I help you?”

  She glanced up at a young man in uniform. “I…uh, no,” Donna stammered. “I was just looking for a friend.”

  “Maybe she’s already been booked,” the officer offered helpfully.

  “Booked?”

  “Maybe she’s already in jail,” he exclaimed patiently. “What’s her name, I’ll find out for you.”

  “Ah, no, no, thank you! She didn’t do anything,” Donna fabricated quickly. “She had…uh…just asked me to meet her here because she’s doing a thesis. On police work in New York City, you know.” Donna flashed him a radiant smile and backed toward the door. “I’ll just wait a moment or two longer, if it’s okay.”

  “Certainly,” the officer told her politely.

  Donna smiled again. He turned away, and she noticed a row of public telephones and hurried to them. She picked up a receiver, glanced around guiltily, and pretended to talk, hoping the phone she had chosen didn’t choose to ring.

  She began to feel absurd, as if she were on a ridiculous goose chase.

  But then she saw him, pausing with what she assumed to be two plainclothesmen to say something to the desk sergeant.

  Donna huddled as far as she could into her phone booth, holding her breath in the hope that he wouldn’t see her. Luke and the other two men walked right past her.

  “Where do you want to start, Luke?” one of the men asked.

  Luke hesitated, and Donna noticed that he looked a lot like Andrew had, strained, worn, and very tired. He had just come back from their honeymoon. Why did he look so tense?

  “North, I think,” Luke replied.

  “I’ll do the driving,” the other man said.

  And then Luke was saying something else, but they had gone on past her, and she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  Where were they going? Why did Luke look so exhausted?

  She should go home. She should trust him. When
he was ready to talk to her, he would.

  No, she thought, feeling a knot that seemed to constrict about her heart. She had to know what was going on. It was important to her present happiness, to the lifetime that stretched before them.

  Without thinking any further, she raced out into the street, quickly scanning the area for her husband. She saw him, near the curb, by a dusty old Chevy. One of the plainclothesmen was climbing into the driver’s seat. Luke was getting into the front passenger’s seat, and the third man was climbing into the back.

  “I need a cab, I need a cab!” she muttered desperately, craning her neck to see beyond the immediate traffic. The Chevy was about to leave the curb. At last Donna saw an empty Checker; she raised her hand and ran for it.

  “Please—follow that Chevy!” she told the driver.

  “Say, do what now?” the driver inquired. He appeared to be a young Bahamian—nice enough but, like Dave Gimbal, he seemed to think that she was crazy.

  “I said follow that Chevy. Listen, sir, I may be a lunatic, but I’m a harmless one, and if you keep that car in sight, I promise to make it worth your while.”

  “Sure thing,” the cabbie said. “It’s your money!” He revved his motor, lurching the cab out into traffic.

  It was an erratic drive, and finally the Chevy stopped and pulled to a curb.

  “What do I do?” the cabbie asked.

  “Whatever he does,” Donna replied.

  The cabbie, remaining a discreet distance back, pulled to the curb. The unmarked police car pulled away.

  The cabbie grimaced. “You want me to—”

  “Follow it,” Donna finished for him.

  The cabbie pulled back out into traffic.

  Donna grew confused as the police car stopped, then continued several times. The cabbie seemed exasperated, but quietly so. He wasn’t about to argue with the fare that was building up.

  Finally the police car drew up before an old tenement building. This time when the Chevy parked, the lights went out. “What now?” the cabbie asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Donna whispered. The night seemed conducive to whispering.