Faithless Angel

by Kimberly Raye

  But Faith needed him to touch her. She was so cold by herself. Yet when she looked into his eyes, he warmed her from the inside out. His eyes started the fire burning deep inside her belly, until she wasn’t cold anymore. Or empty. Or lonely.

  The motorcycle swerved and panic bolted through her.

  “Pay attention.” The deep voice slid into her ears. She wouldn’t have heard him over the rush of wind, but he was so close, his lips grazing her ear. His hands came around her to grab the handlebars. “You have to hold her steady. Like this.” His hands, so strong and purposeful, closed over hers. “Keep your mind on the road.”

  But her mind wasn’t on the road. It was on him and the way he seemed to surround her.

  “Concentrate.”

  “You try concentrating without your underpants.” She wouldn’t have said it under normal circumstances. But with the wind rushing at them, the bike vibrating beneath, she felt a little wild, and reckless.

  Laughter rumbled in her ears, thrummed through her senses. “I guess that would make it a little difficult.”

  She took a deep breath. “Try next to impossible.”

  “Not impossible. Not yet.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean—” The words stalled in her throat when one of his hands dropped to her bare leg. His fingers splayed against her flesh and slid toward the inside of her knee, working the hem of her skirt up as he went.

  Her grip on the gas faltered and the motorcycle jerked before Jesse recovered their moderate speed with his other hand.

  “Careful. Remember, it’s all in the hands.” His hand left her knee to force her fingers back to the handlebars; then he dropped his attention back to the spot he’d already set on fire.

  “Motorcycles aren’t that much different from people,” he went on, one hand over hers guiding her grip on the gas, his other on her leg. “They’ll do just what you want, as long as you know how to stroke them. If you want a nice, slow, leisurely ride, you keep your touch loose, not too much pressure.” His fingers made lazy circles on the inside of her thigh, and a slow heat seeped through Faith.

  “You want a fast, hard ride, you tighten your grip and exert more pressure.” His fingers swept higher, his touch more intense as he moved beneath the edge of her skirt and higher until he was a scant inch shy of the moist heat between her legs. “See the difference?” he murmured against her ear, his deep voice gliding along her nerve endings.

  Forget a reply. Her heart pumped much too furiously for her to form any words.

  “Faith, are you with me?”

  She was ahead of him. Way ahead, she realized when his thumb brushed the center of her desire and sensation speared, hot and jagged, through her body.

  They would have run off the road if one of Jesse’s hands hadn’t been resting atop hers, guiding the bike when Faith’s thought processes short-circuited.

  “You’re so wet.” The words were more of a groan. “So warm and wet and …” His voice faded into the buzz of wind and excitement that filled her ears.

  She tilted her head back, resting it in the curve of his shoulder as she gave over to the ecstasy beating at her sanity and let him take control, of the motorcycle and her aching body.

  He slid a finger deep inside her and the air bolted from her lungs. He moved and she did, too, shifting just so, riding his fingers the way the two of them rode the bike, her legs tightening around the powerful machine, her insides tightening around him.

  The ride was wonderful, exciting, leaving her breathless and dizzy by the time Jesse steered them over to the side of the road.

  The highway was deserted, the night sky an endless stretch of stars above. He was off the bike, pulling her after him before she could blink away the stars spinning in her head. His mouth covered hers, his lips plundering hers in a kiss that sent a flood straight between her already damp thighs.

  He backed her up against a nearby tree, his arms braced on either side of her, his lips blazing a trail from her collarbone, down to the vee of her blouse. His fingers made quick work of its buttons until he parted the material, unsnapped her bra, and shoved aside the lacy cups. Then his hot mouth closed over her nipple and a moan parted her lips.

  He teased the ripe peak with his tongue before he sucked so long and hard and deep that she thought she would come apart right there in his arms. Again. The shameless way she’d done that day outside in the rain.

  It was all so overwhelming. She’d never achieved release before that day. She’d had sex, yes, a few times with her steady boyfriend back in college. But he’d never done this to her, never made her feel a fourth of what Jesse did.

  Jesse was different. Jesse gave her … heaven.

  The word echoed through her head a heartbeat before he pulled away. The wind skittered across her bare flesh, and a heated curse echoed in her ears.

  She opened heavy eyes to see him stalk to the edge of the road and rake tense fingers back and forth through his hair.

  “Jesse?”

  “It’s late,” he finally said, his voice gruff.

  “What?” She fought to gather her wits and understand what had just happened.

  “We’d better get back.” Without sparing her a glance, he climbed onto the bike, flipped the key, and gunned the engine.

  Somehow she knew he meant his coldness to anger her, but Faith was far too wound up, too hot and desperate to feel anything other than a numb shock. Then as the motorcycle engine roared in her ears, reality started to set in, and along with it, a slow-burning rage.

  “You lied to me. You’re not even a love-’em-and-leave-’em man. You’re worse. You’re a tease.”

  He didn’t respond. He simply sat there. Moonlight sculpted his features, accenting the taut lines of his face, the banked tension gripping his shoulders, his very evident excitement making his jeans bulge.

  He wanted her, and she wanted him like she’d never wanted any other man before. Not out of curiosity or a sense of obligation. She just wanted him; it was plain and simple.

  Or it would have been if he hadn’t been so set on resisting this thing that flowed between them, this connection, which was so powerful and consuming. So out of this world.

  Faith yanked the edges of her blouse together, worked the buttons, and smoothed her skirt down before walking to the motorcycle, her legs rubbery, her body tingling.

  Before she could completely seat herself behind him, he pulled onto the highway and headed for town.

  The seduction was over. Unfinished. And Faith was still empty and cold and so damned lonely, even though Jesse Savage sat a scant inch in front of her.

  So close all she had to do was reach out.

  But she wouldn’t. Not again. The next move would be his. That realization brought fresh tears to her eyes because Faith knew in her gut it would be a cold day in hell before Jesse Savage made any move toward her again.

  Stupid!

  Jesse had lost his sanity. Floating around in that great big void between heaven and hell, light and darkness, he’d gone crazy. That was the only explanation for the way his body ached, throbbed, even though he’d dropped Faith off three hours ago. He had spent the time since riding around, and now walking, doing his damnedest to cool off, to forget.

  With distance between them, it shouldn’t be hard. He shouldn’t be so hard. He shouldn’t feel her emotions, her desperation, her desire. It was all her. He knew that.

  He glanced down at the prominent bulge in his jeans. Okay, so his own lust had figured in, but it was nothing personal. He’d been floating in the nothingness, alone and sexually deprived. Of course, when confronted with a female, one who definitely wanted him, he was bound to react. It was a physical reaction. Nothing deeper. He didn’t want Faith Jansen. He just wanted, period.

  Focus.

  The word whispered through his head like a cool wind blowing over a blistering landscape. Yes, he had to focus.

  Then he heard her—a soft sigh here, a giggle there, a deep, relaxed breath…. And he smelled
her—a sweet, feminine heat with a touch of wildness. Roses and rain.

  The panties he’d slid from her silky smooth legs burned through his pocket, scorched his bare skin.

  Yanking the scrap of silk from his jeans, he went to toss the panties into the nearest trash can but his fingers wouldn’t obey. With a violent curse, he shoved the soft material back into his pocket.

  Focus.

  He concentrated on taking deep breaths, one after the other as he walked. No thinking, just step after step. By the time he returned to Faith’s House, it was well past midnight. He staggered up to the garage apartment, collapsed into bed, and gave in to the sleep clawing at his brain.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Headlining today’s newscast is the horrific fire that swept through a downtown apartment complex—”

  Faith sat on the living room sofa, the sun beaming through the window, and punched the button on the remote control, flipping past several talk shows.

  “… today we’re talking to the sons and daughters of parents who’ve joined deadly religious cults.”

  “… did you know your husband was having an affair with your daughter’s boyfriend’s mother?”

  “… we’re featuring cross-dressing fathers and sons and the women who love them.”

  Okay, so it looked like cooking or music television. What a choice. She settled for the local video channel and turned her attention to the plate of leftover brownies sitting next to her.

  A shadow appeared outside her living room window and her hand paused inches shy of the plate. Her heart lurched forward like a prime race car at the Indy 500. Her gaze darted to the front door, which she’d left unlocked, along with the burglar bars, when she’d gone out to retrieve the newspaper earlier. A disastrous news report blared through her head.

  WOMAN FOUND MURDERED IN LIVING ROOM.

  No, make that STUPID WOMAN WHO FORGOT TO LOCK HER DOOR FOUND MURDERED IN LIVING ROOM.

  She was about to lunge for the dead bolt when the shadow bent down and she heard her lawn mower sputter to life. She crossed the room and stared through the open drapes at Jesse Savage.

  Okay, so STUPID WOMAN FOUND DEAD OF OVERACTIVE IMAGINATION. He strode back and forth across her lawn, pushing the mower she kept out back in her garage. She drank in every detail, from his dusty black boots and faded jeans to the black T-shirt stretched over his torso. Strong hands gripped the handles and guided the machine. His forearms flexed. Biceps rippled.

  Faith swallowed and her attention shifted.

  His steps were sure and steady despite the overgrown grass. Thigh muscles bunched. Released. His tush swayed just so….

  She swallowed again before forcing her gaze away.

  “Relax,” she muttered to herself and forced a calming breath. It wasn’t as if she were some love-starved teenager lusting after the lawn boy. She was a grown woman, and he was just a man.

  Okay, so he was more like man—six feet plus of carved muscle and enough sex appeal to send Aphrodite herself into a tailspin.

  Faith couldn’t help but smile.

  Her lips still tingled from his kisses. Her nipples puckered at the memory of his mouth and tongue, and a flood of heat washed through her at the memory of his hands…. Geez, he had really great hands, and … he liked brownies.

  Her gaze lit on the platter sitting on the sofa.

  Minutes later, she slipped outside and sat down on the front porch steps to watch him. She had a really great view for all of one minute before he noticed her.

  He cut the mower engine, planted one hand on his hip, and faced her.

  “Hungry?” She held up the plate of brownies.

  He shook his head and wiped at the sweat dripping down his temples.

  “How about thirsty?” She held up a glass of lemonade, then patted the spot next to her. “Take a break.”

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “You work too much. Besides, it’s my yard, so that makes me the boss. I’m ordering you to take a break.”

  He strode toward her but he didn’t take a seat. 0Instead, he simply stood there and took the glass of lemonade she held up.

  Tilting his head back, he gulped the contents of the glass. Liquid dribbled down the corners of his mouth, and Faith took a sip of her own lemonade to soothe her suddenly dry throat.

  “Thanks.” He handed her back the empty glass.

  “You sure you don’t want a brownie?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “How about a sandwich? I could rustle up some bologna and cheese. Or maybe some roast beef. My fridge is full now.”

  Another shake of his head.

  “Then what do you want? I mean, I know you live for lawn maintenance, but that’s not what keeps you coming back. At least I don’t think so. So what is it, Jesse? What do you really want?”

  He gave her a pointed stare. “I really want you to come to Faith’s House with me today.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before.”

  “This isn’t a discussion. I’m not asking you, Faith. I’m telling you.” His jaw tightened with determination. “Those kids need you. Are you blind? Couldn’t you see how much they missed you night before last?”

  “That’s because I haven’t been gone for very long. They’ll forget about me.” They will, she added silently, desperately trying to sway that traitorous part of her that insisted otherwise.

  He looked ready to throttle her. “You can’t just walk away.”

  “I’m not. I’m turning things over to a very capable person—Bradley—then I’m retiring, and it’s none of your business.”

  “It is my business,” he muttered, then swore. “It is.”

  “Why? Why does it matter to you, Jesse?”

  “Because.” He stared down at her, his gaze reflecting the sun that streamed down around them. His eyes burned hotter, whiter, a pulsing iridescent heat that drew her, called to her.

  Impossible. It was obviously a trick of the light. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and blinked.

  On the fourth blink, his gaze cooled and she found herself staring into dark, mysterious pools that revealed not a hint of the thoughts racing through his mind.

  “If you’re going to tell me that the kids need me, don’t. They need somebody who doesn’t hold back, and I’m afraid that’s all I can do now. I can’t give one hundred percent.” Her voice threatened to crack and she swallowed, as if that could make saying the words easier. “I don’t want to hurt anymore. And that’s what caring does. It hurts.”

  He wanted so much to argue with her. She could see it in his eyes, in the tension that filled his powerful body, but he didn’t say anything. He just glared at her, as if he could exert his will on her with those unnerving eyes of his.

  “So you’d just rather look out for number one,” he finally muttered.

  “Exactly.”

  “And if a few people get lost by the wayside, it’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay. But somebody else can play hero and pick them up.”

  “And what if no one does?”

  “Someone will,” she insisted. “Someone like Bradley. Like you.”

  He laughed then, the sound bitter and pained, and she had the urge to draw him into her arms.

  “I’ve never been much of a hero.”

  “You saved me from Daniel.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “It wasn’t. Not then. You risked your neck before you had the job.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Because you’re like Bradley. You can’t resist a cry for help.”

  “Your cry,” he said, his words ringing with an honesty that reached out and tugged at her heart. “I can’t resist your cry for help.”

  “Well, I’m through crying and I’m through with the kids.” Her voice softened and she rubbed at her suddenly tired eyes. “You don’t know me around kids. I get close and bam, I’m sucked into their lives. I hav
e this constant need to nurture, to help.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be wrapped up in someone else’s life. I don’t ever want to feel the way I did when they put Jane into the ground. I felt my soul ripped away. I—I don’t ever want to feel that way again, and that means keeping my distance.”

  “You’re running away,” he said.

  Her gaze collided with his. “I’m not running away, Jesse. I’m turning away. I’m not capable of opening myself up and putting other people first anymore. That part of me is gone. I’m just plain old selfish Faith.”

  “This wasn’t selfish.” He held up the glass of lemonade and indicated the plate of brownies.

  “Oh, no?” She raised an eyebrow at him, a grin tugging at her lips. “And you think I’m the one who’s blind?” When he looked bewildered, she went on, “I wanted an excuse to come out here. To get close to you. I …” She swallowed. “I keep thinking about last night.”

  Something ignited in his eyes the moment the words were out of her mouth. She glimpsed desire, desperation, hunger, and …

  “I’ve got grass to cut,” he muttered, turning away before she could see any more.

  Anger rolled through her. “And you think I’m the one who’s running away? You could teach me a thing or two.”

  “I’m not running from my responsibilities.”

  “No, you’re running from your feelings.”

  He whirled. “If you think pissing me off is going to get me off your back about the shelter, then think again.”

  “Faith’s House was the farthest thing from my mind. I’m talking about you and me.”

  “There is no you and me.”

  “I don’t think I ate by myself last night.”

  “Last night was last night. This is today. Tomorrow,” he said, the word hanging between them, a reminder of what had happened. What hadn’t happened.

  He finally shrugged and turned back to the the lawn mower.

  “You won’t forget what happened last night,” she told him, her gaze riveted on his back.

  “I already have.”

  “I couldn’t sleep at all.”

  “I slept like a baby.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Liar.”