Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  J.T. lay on his back, gloriously naked, limbs sprawled, the blanket tangled at the foot of the bed. The only thing affording him a measure of modesty was the thin cotton sheet draped over one leg and the juncture of his thighs. Searching his face, she found his features relaxed and softened by slumber. He looked peaceful. His breathing was steady and deep. Even after she reassured herself he was fine, she didn’t leave.

  The muscular contours of his body fascinated her even though she’d seen him naked before. She followed the light sprinkling of hair covering his wide chest down to a stomach washboard lean. She wanted to touch him there, feel the strength of work-toughened muscles flex beneath her fingertips. His hip was bare, tapering to a hard, muscular thigh. Even his calf was defined and lean.

  A slow heat flowed through Caitlan, that curious desire coiling like a tight spring inside her. Leisurely, she journeyed back up the length of his body—until her gaze collided with his wide-eyed stare. She froze, her heart slamming against her ribs. She made a move to turn, but he was faster. Lunging at her, his hand manacled her wrist and jerked her toward the bed. With a soft gasp of surprise, she stumbled and fell on him. Still holding her wrist, he rolled, pinning her beneath the heavy weight of his body. It all happened so fast, Caitlan’s head spun.

  The unexpected attack was like the one in the line shack while he’d been delirious, but this time he wasn’t sleeping or dreaming. His eyes were wide open, hot and fierce—predatory and a little savage, like a hunter gone too long without capturing his prey.

  In the fray, her shirt had worked its way up to her hips. He’d wedged a thigh between hers. The sheet no longer providing a barrier between them, she couldn’t miss the hard, heated length of him pressing against her thigh. Their position was compromising, thrilling, and arousing in a way that should have shocked her but instead sent uninhibited quivers racing through her body.

  She swallowed hard and found her voice. “What are you doing?”

  “More like what are you doing in my bedroom?” he countered in a low, husky voice. “A woman usually comes to a man’s bed uninvited for one reason only. Are you looking to finish what we started this morning in the line shack?”

  “No.” She tried to move away, but his body was hard and solid as a rock. She wouldn’t be able to escape until he allowed her to. The hand that had so deftly grabbed her now secured her wrist at the side of her head. The other hand cupped the back of her head, his long fingers tangled in her hair, his thumb grazing the shell of her ear. She shivered.

  Releasing her wrist, he picked up a strand of her hair and absently rubbed it between his fingers. “Then what are you doing in here?”

  Her free hand came between them as a safety precaution, her palm flattening on his chest. Upon contact, warm, firm muscles bunched and rippled, but he didn’t move. “I only wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay.”

  Frowning slightly, he gazed into her eyes. “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t know why, but I do.” And that was the truth. She cared more than was appropriate, but she didn’t understand why. She needed and wanted him in ways that frightened her. He felt like a missing part of her soul.

  Slowly, he trailed a finger down her cheek, his gaze warm and sensual as his eyes tracked the path of his touch. His thumb stroked over her bottom lip, then tugged so his finger could slide along the edge of her teeth. A sensation laboring between fever and chill swept down Caitlan’s spine. Feeling frantic and trapped, she pushed at his chest and tried twisting away. “Please, let me up.

  “No.” He grabbed her hip to still her, his strong fingers biting into her flesh. His other hand tightened at the back of her head, holding her hostage.

  Spears of fire shot along her nerve endings. Continuous waves of heat and sensation found their destination in the tips of her breasts and that secret place where his thigh fit so snugly. Eyes darkening, he lowered his head, skimming his lips over her jaw to her ear. He gently bit the sensitive skin just below her lobe, then soothed the nip with his soft, damp tongue.

  Caitlan gasped, her breath caught between her lungs and throat. A delicious pressure contracted in her belly, spreading lower like liquid heat spilling through her veins. “J.T.” The feeble protest sounded more like a breathy plea for more.

  Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes, a lazy, sexy smile curving his mouth. “I want to kiss you while I’m wide awake. I want to see if you taste as good as you did in my dreams.”

  “No—”

  “Yes. You came in here, Caitlan,” he reminded her. “If you want to leave, it’ll cost you.” J.T. nuzzled her neck, intoxicating himself with her soft, feminine scent. “I think a kiss is just punishment for sneaking around like a thief in the night,” he murmured, hoping one kiss would be enough to get her out of his system.

  “We can’t, she whispered.

  He kissed her mouth softly, ran his tongue playfully across her bottom lip, melting her resolve. “You’re not in a position to argue.”

  The hand on his chest slackened considerably, but her taut body had yet to fully warm to the idea. “One kiss and you’ll let me go?”

  “Unless you want more.” Before she could utter another word, he dropped his mouth over hers, parted her lips with his, and slid his tongue inside that warm, wet cavern. Every male instinct urged him to be greedy, to give her a hot, carnal kiss that would warn her of the possibility of him possessing her body in the same way, but something held him back. He wanted to savor the sweet taste of her, the way she gave so freely and responded so openly. So trustingly.

  Deliberately, he made the kiss slow and long and lazy. His tongue coaxed hers to join the sensual foray, and after a timid minute she did. The silken glide of tongues tangling sent a shaft of heat to J.T.’s groin and hardened every muscle in his body.

  A deep-throated, arousing moan escaped her, and she grew pliant beneath him, relaxing. Her thighs moved restlessly against his, and she arched sinuously, seeking more contact.

  The plan to drive her from his mind with one kiss backfired. Needing more from her than he knew he had the right to take, he ignored the little voice in his head telling him to stop, before it was too late. Letting go of her hip, he reached down and slid his fingers around the back of her left knee, stroking the soft, sensitive flesh there.

  Her breath caught at the electric caress, and he swallowed another one of her sexy moans. For a moment he wondered if Caitlan had a birthmark in the bend of her knee, just like Amanda, then decided he didn’t really want to know. He didn’t really care, because the only woman he wanted right now was Caitlan. He wanted her to fill the loneliness that was more profound when he was near her. He wanted to take her, over and over again, in every way, until she no longer threatened the barricades he’d built around his heart.

  Keeping her mouth occupied with his languid kiss, he drew her leg tight over his hip, brought her as close as her silky panties would allow, and slowly slid his palm up the back of her thigh. Cupping her bottom, he squeezed the flesh gently, appreciatively, then continued on, slipping his hand beneath her shirt and over her quivering belly. Her bare skin was soft and fine as gossamer. God, had he ever touched anything so exquisite before?

  The tiny, mindless sounds she made inflamed him. He broke the kiss and stared at her face, taking in her swollen lips and the desire and confusion blending in her eyes. And probing questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, like, what was happening between them?

  Raw need tore a shudder from him, and he argued with his conscience, telling himself he only wanted sex from Caitlan, not the tender promises of forever shimmering in her eyes. He hated this weakness and vulnerability he felt with her, this gut-wrenching need, and the way she made him feel so alive, as if he’d been dead inside until her.

  Dammit, no! Attempting to convince himself this was nothing more than a physical encounter, he boldly swept his hand upward, swallowing her breast in his large palm. His fingers kneaded the flesh, making the mound swell and peak at hi
s command.

  Shock registered in her eyes, and she stiffened, her hands gripping his arms. Before she could object, he moved down and bent his head, taking the pebbled tip of her breast into his mouth, suckling her through the cotton of her shirt.

  A gasp of stunned pleasure passed her lips, and her fingers sank into his hair, pulling him closer, her back arching. Then, suddenly, she was pushing him away, as if he was taking her to the point of no return and she wasn’t sure she wanted to go.

  “We can’t,” she said, squirming desperately to stop him. “Please, J.T., let me go.”

  The fear and panic lacing her voice stopped him cold. He was moving too fast, scaring her, scaring himself with the intense intimacy luring him deeper into her clutches. He withdrew his hand from her shirt. Anger coiled in him. Dammit, when had things gotten so out of control?

  “I’ll let you go,” he said evenly, raising those walls up around him again so she couldn’t get too close, “but the next time you come in here in the middle of the night, I’ll assume you want to share my bed, and not to sleep. And let me warn you up front, if we do make love, I don’t make promises. I’m not looking for a woman in my life or a commitment, so keep that in mind.” Her gaze clouded with hurt at his callous words, but he knew this would be for the best—for both of them. These were rules he lived by, no exceptions. “I want you, Caitlan, more than I’ve wanted any woman in a long, long time. But it’s sex. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  She stared at him for long seconds, then reached up and touched his jaw, her brows drawn in a contemplative frown. “Your heart is bruised,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

  Her see-through-him gaze seared his soul. Hardening himself against the tug-of-war with his emotions, he forced a harshness to his voice. “It’s completely shattered, Caitlan. I lost any softness or tenderness long ago. If you let me, I’ll take and take and give nothing in return. I have nothing to give, so don’t get it into your foolish head that you’re just the woman to repair my heart. And don’t make the mistake of thinking my desire for you is something more. You’ll only get yourself hurt. I have nothing left to give a woman, Caitlan. Any woman.”

  She shook her head, wisdom lighting her eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Believe what you want, but consider yourself warned.” He rolled completely off her and let his gaze take in the disheveled length of her, then noticed she was looking at that traitorous part of him still eager to consummate what they’d started.

  Leaning close, he made sure she didn’t miss the warning in his tone. “I’m about two seconds from stripping you naked and easing this ache of mine, so I suggest you leave while I’ll still let you.” He ran his fingers purposely up her thigh, and she jackknifed into a sitting position. Grimly, he said, “Go, Caitlan. Now!”

  He watched as she slid from the bed and bolted from the room as if the devil was on her heels.

  * * *

  Caitlan closed the door to the guest bedroom and leaned against the slab of wood for support, her legs trembling in a series of gentle aftershocks. Heaven help her, she could still feel the imprint of J.T.’s hard body pressing into hers, could still taste the sleepy warmth and male earthiness of him in her mouth. Flattening her palms to her burning cheeks, she tried to calm the fine tremors running the length of her body.

  In the darkness, she felt the damp material of her shirt where he’d suckled her nipple to an aching peak. The pleasure he’d given her at that moment had been so intense, her desire for him nearly overwhelming, she’d wanted to drown in the exquisite sensations. A dart of heat shot to her abdomen when she thought how his mouth and hands brought a part of her to life, real life, and how she’d craved more contact and deeper, more intimate touches. As her body blossomed with each kiss and bold caress, a deeper need had settled in, pulling her under and opening herself to him, physically and emotionally. Powerfully. Her soul felt the rightness of the connection, yearned for a joining that tugged at her heart. She’d almost given in....

  And then the purpose for being at J.T.’s ranch wove through her mind, jolting her past the passion clouding her judgment and thrusting her back to her responsibilities as a guardian angel—none of which included making love with her ward. Thank goodness J.T. had let her go. But not until after a lecture from him, a warning she’d be smart to heed. For his sake as well as her own.

  Feeling more stable, Caitlan walked across the room and pulled back the covers on the bed and slipped between the sheets. Lying there, she stared at the ceiling, replaying J.T.’s words in her mind. I have nothing left to give echoed in her head and brushed across the surface of her heart. And why did she want to be the one to give him joy again?

  “Oh, Caitlan, your thoughts are futile,” she whispered to herself. “You know you can’t allow this attraction to interfere with your mission. How would you explain that mess to the Superiors?”

  Rolling to her side, she tucked her hands beneath her pillow, deciding the best course of action would be to act as if tonight had never happened when she next saw J.T. A dry laugh escaped her. Wish for a mortal life while you’re at it, Caitlan. There was no way in heaven she could forget the shameless way her body had responded to his, that a look from him could make her breathless with sensual anticipation.

  Her groan of dismay broke the silence in the room. She was here to protect J.T., but who would protect her from this forbidden desire she had for him?

  Chapter Five

  Blinking irritably at the heavy, burning sensation in his eyes, compliments of a sleepless night invaded with erotic dreams of Caitlan, J.T. headed toward the kitchen for breakfast the following morning. The heavy scent of bacon and coffee, mingled with the sweeter aroma of Paula’s delicious pancakes, provoked a rumble of hunger from his stomach. He needed food and coffee, then a fast run on Quinn to take the edge off his strung-out nerves.

  J.T. stopped short when he walked across the threshold, his gaze riveted to the one woman he’d thought to avoid by getting up this early. Caitlan.

  He felt like hell, knew he looked like hell, and to compound his ire, she sat at the end of the table looking as refreshed as a daisy after a spring rain—as if she had had a good eight hours of sleep under her belt. At five in the morning, for chrissakes! She should have looked a little wilted!

  Her silky hair swung about her shoulders as she glanced at him. A slight smile curved her mouth. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

  Despite her attempt to be amiable, he detected the guardedness in her eyes. A look of uncertainty that said she wasn’t sure she wanted to get too close to him. Good. After last night he wanted her to stay the hell away from him. The further, the better.

  “Morning,” he muttered. Crossing to the coffeepot, he poured himself a cup of the brew, then carried it to his regular seat at the table, across from Caitlan. Settling himself on the bench, he glanced around. “Where’s Paula?”

  “In the pantry,” Caitlan replied, concentrating on the task of slathering strawberry jam on her toast.

  “Breakfast will be on the table in a sec,” Paula called. The sound of canned goods being shuffled from the shelves drifted out of the walk-in pantry. “Frank and Kirk are on their way up.”

  “That’s fine.” Taking a long swallow of coffee, J.T. studied Caitlan. She wouldn’t look at him, acted as though he wasn’t there. Her indifference annoyed him because he was all too aware of her.

  She stood and went to refill her mug with coffee, offering him an unobstructed head-to-toe view. He recognized the thigh-length beige cable-knit sweater she wore over her jeans as Debbie’s, and was grateful for the concealing and bulky top. He knew she had curves, had felt every one of them last night, and wanted no visual reminder of how lush her body really was.

  She returned, and he took another drink of his coffee, parading his thoughts in a different direction. “What are you doing up so early?”

  Grabbing the sugar container, she poured a long stream into her coffee, added a spl
ash of cream, and stirred. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Join the club.” He watched her take a bite of her toast and lick a smudge of jam from her thumb, unaffected by his dry comment. Dammit, look up at me! After a reassuring glance to confirm that Paula was still busy in the pantry, he said in a low voice only Caitlan could hear, “I couldn’t sleep probably because I’m not in the habit of receiving late-night visitors.”

  Her gaze flew to his, the violet depths smoky with awareness. He smiled, a measure of wicked satisfaction rushing through him at the telltale flush sweeping across her cheeks. He waited in anticipation for her rebuttal, but before she could reply they were interrupted.

  “Don’t mind J.T.,” Paula said, bustling back into the kitchen, her arms full holding a container of dried noodles and a sack of potatoes. “A cup of strong coffee usually takes the grizzly out of him. Our J.T. isn’t much of a morning person.” She cast him a fond smile over her shoulder before unloading her staples onto the counter.

  No, he wasn’t much of a morning person, J.T. thought, staring at Caitlan’s amused expression. Especially since wakening with an arousal so painfully hard it had taken a cold shower in order for him to zip up his jeans. And it was her fault. Even after she’d left his bed last night the scent and warmth of her lingered, haunting him and his dreams.

  Frank and Kirk ambled in the back door, hanging their hats and coats on the rack situated there. Their discussion about the day’s plans abruptly ended when they saw Caitlan sitting at the table.

  “Morning,” they greeted at the same time, both wearing congenial grins.

  “Good morning,” Caitlan replied with a bright smile.

  J.T. gave them a brief nod of acknowledgment, refusing to wish them a good morning when his was as lousy as it got.