Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  Two minutes later, their bodies still damp from the quick rubdown he’d given them, J.T. laid her on the soft quilt covering his bed. Leaving the nightstand light on low, he slid on top of her, bracing himself above her on his elbows. Her legs parted eagerly for him, but he didn’t take possession of her.

  The friction of his hard, muscular body pressing into her soft contours aroused her. The gleam in his eyes blazed savagely and his heart pounded fiercely beneath the hand she’d planted on his chest. Heaven help her, she wanted him like this, wild and primitive and hungry for her.

  “I love you, Caitlan,” he said, the words sounding rusty and unused. “I love you.” Before she could respond his mouth swooped down on hers, open, hot, and wet, ruthless in its demands, a kiss meant to claim. The tip of his arousal touched silky warmth, teasing and tormenting her with the promise of being filled.

  He tore his mouth from hers with a low groan. His gaze grew dark and smoky, his breathing harsh. “You’re mine, Caitlan,” he said, staking the same claim he had in the barn. “Say it,” he demanded huskily.

  She thrilled to the truth burning in his eyes, the same truth that seared her heart and made her wholly his. Her medallion danced like fire between her breasts, but not hot enough to dissuade her from following her heart. “I’m yours,” she said, hooking her legs around his thighs, luring him toward the promise of ecstasy. “Take me.

  Caitlan cried out as he drove into her, her body so primed that she accepted him in one silken stroke. He came down on her with an anguished moan, crushing his lips to hers, plundering her mouth with his tongue. His hips moved rhythmically against hers, long, fluid thrusts that escalated into something far more powerful and compelling.

  And then it wasn’t enough—for either of them. Unbridled passion erupted between them, white hot and untamed. Their bodies strained toward one another, both desperate to bind more than just flesh. Caitlan gloried in his sleek power, at the pleasure he so easily wove in her. Her hands touched him everywhere, imprinting everything about him to memory, knowing that was all she’d ever have from him. She poured her love into their kiss, although her heart faltered at the knowledge that she would ultimately lose him.

  J.T. lifted his mouth from hers, his body rigid with control. He gazed down at her, his eyes glittering with hunger, desperate with greed. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She did, hugging him tight. Holding her, he rolled to his back and pushed her to an upright position so she straddled his hips. A startled gasp escaped her as he embedded himself to the hilt. He stared up at her for a long moment, his gaze scanning her face, taking in her tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips. The large hands spanning her waist moved slowly, sensuously upward, splaying over her stomach, then tracing the outline of each rib. A hot flood of desire spiraled through her, and she moaned and arched shamelessly on him, pushing her breasts into his palms.

  He touched the medallion with the tip of his finger, and the gold immediately increased in temperature, scalding her skin. Sucking in a quick breath, she reached up to push his hand away. Rebellion flared in his eyes and he grasped the pendant in his palm.

  An electrifying surge of energy jolted her, traveling the length of her body like a never-ending shock wave. Sparks of heat showered within her, shimmering just below the surface of her skin and radiating downward to where she joined intimately with J.T. She melted around him, an incredible feeling of oneness meshing her spirit with J.T.’ s, leaving her breathless.

  J.T. moaned, his body shuddering. She looked into his eyes and knew by the bewilderment there that he’d experienced the same startling sensation. The intensity of the spiritual encounter, and the channel of energy still humming between them, frightened and aroused her.

  “Take the medallion off,” he said, his voice husky with sexually charged awareness.

  Panic gripped her and she grasped his wrist. Allowing him to touch the medallion was one thing, but to take it off ... She never took off the medallion during a mission. “J.T., no—”

  “Yes,” he said adamantly. “I don’t want anything between us.”

  She hesitated for a brief moment, torn between love and duty. Then, with an acceptance that came from her heart, she let go of his hand. She, too, wanted the last barrier between them removed.

  He lifted the chain over her head and dropped it off the side of the bed. The pendant hit the wooden floor with a soft clink. “Now ride me, Caitie,” he demanded thickly, pulling her hips down at the same time he bucked upward. “Ride me hard.”

  His bluntness should have shocked her, but it thrilled her instead. “Show me,” she said, wanting to please him.

  He guided her with his hands and rolled his hips. “Do whatever feels good.”

  She did, giving free rein to her awakening sensuality.

  He groaned, low and rough. “That’s it,” he murmured, driving deeper, more urgently into her. “So good.”

  Closing her eyes, Caitlan focused on the tension winding within her. Without the medallion, her response to J.T. was sharper, more searing than ever. Their union went past the physical joining to the emotional link that seemed to make him such an intricate part of her. Tiny shivers of awareness sparkled over her, whispering to her senses, pulling at her soul. She arched wildly on him, reaching for the brilliance glittering on the edge, the promise of fulfillment that sat just beyond her grasp. And something else—elusive thoughts and images that teased her mind.

  “C’mon, Caitie,” he growled, drawing in choppy breaths in an effort to hold back for her.

  His fingers caressed the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, skimming higher. “Let it go.”

  Caitlan wanted to, but the closer she came to reaching that crest, something within her pulled back. Her heart slammed in her chest and every breath labored her lungs. A jumble of emotions raged in her, all tied to J.T. Rich, profound feelings of love and desire ... and devastation and loss.

  She blinked her eyes open and started to withdraw, afraid of what lay beyond the peak. But then J.T.’s fingers touched her where they became one, stroking silken folds with gentle determination. He murmured encouraging words to her, then more explicit demands.

  Keen emotions swelled in her, clamoring for release. Moaning softly, Caitlan arched desperately against J.T. An uprush of sensations burst free, an explosion of the sweetest kind overtaking her body and mind. Sobbing J.T.’s name, she convulsed violently around him, feeling reborn, her soul renewed. From another plateau she heard J.T. call her name, heard him groan deeply, then felt the wet warmth of him fill her.

  I love you, J.T., she thought, collapsing on his chest.

  “I love you, Caitlan,” he whispered, his body shuddering from the force of his climax. “Don’t leave me.”

  Familiar feelings and images spiraled in Caitlan, tugging on her senses, like a powerful, inescapable riptide. She closed her eyes, and a wispy vision materialized of a dismal, gray day in a cemetery.

  Dressed in a black suit, J.T. stood beside a polished coffin, pain and sorrow lining his features. He placed a bouquet of handpicked primroses and daisies on the smooth lid, his eyes bleak and empty.

  “Don’t leave me, Amanda, please,” he said, his voice hoarse with desperation.

  Amanda, now a spiritual form, looked on at the scene, at peace with herself, but still so much a part of this man she had to leave behind. I’ll never leave you, Johnny. I’ll always be with you. Always. And then she reached out and touched him one last time, projecting to him all the love in her heart.

  “Amanda, it’s time to go,” her Superior, Mary, called to her. “You have much work to accomplish before you are rejoined with your soulmate.”

  Amanda. The name hit Caitlan with the force of a bolt of lightning. Mary had been talking to her, Caitlan. She remembered the conversation with clarity, recalled going to see J.T. that final time ... she had been there!

  A heavy, suffocating pressure compressed Caitlan’s chest. She frantically searched the outermost reaches of her subcons
cious, digging for facts and clues to substantiate what she’d stumbled upon. A sharp pain pierced her temples, and she gasped, momentarily paralyzed by the onslaught. Snippets of her life as Amanda rushed through her mind like a movie on fast-forward—her parents, her childhood, her love for J.T., her death, her years of service as a guardian angel. And finally the memory of her Superiors suppressing her memory for this mission, then giving her the medallion to protect the past. The medallion J.T. had removed. Now, she understood the connection to J.T., the visions that had plagued her on this mission.

  J.T. was her soulmate.

  With a moan of utter despair, Caitlan absorbed J.T.’s body heat, overwhelmed by her discovery. Her body trembled and her head whirled. An abundance of realizations and memories poured over her, replenishing all the empty areas in her mind, her heart, and her soul. And when the torrent ended she knew with absolute certainty her true identity. Cuddled close to J.T., she began to cry, deep, wracking sobs that shook her entire body.

  J.T., still languorous and awed by the power of their joining, basked in the warm, soft feeling of Caitlan curling up to him, and the sense of completion weaving around his heart. He stroked her back and threaded his fingers through her damp hair, wondering how he’d lived for so long without this woman in his life.

  The sensual fog cleared from his head and he frowned, suddenly aware of the tremors shaking her body. She clung to him, her face buried in his neck, a hot wetness dampening his skin. Caitlan’s tears. His body tensed with alarm. God, had he hurt her somehow?

  He rolled so she was beneath him, but she wouldn’t let go of the hold she had around his neck. Gently, he pried her arms away so he could look into her face. Tears pooled her violet eyes and total devastation marked her expression. J.T. panicked. “Caitlan? Baby, what is it?”

  She shut her eyes, releasing another trail of tears down the side of her face. Her breath caught on a ragged sob. “Amanda,” she choked out.

  His entire body coiled into a tense knot at the mention of Amanda’s name. Remembering the last time they’d made love and she’d called him Johnny, irritation flowed like molten lava through his veins. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

  Her eyes, glossy with tears, brimmed with a peculiar mixture of awe and torment. Slowly lifting her hand, she skimmed her fingertips over his jaw, her gaze searching his features as if seeing him for the first time. She swallowed thickly, a tentative smile working up the corner of her mouth. “I’m Amanda.”

  He jerked away from her cool touch as if burned by flame. Fury shot through him. “Stop it,” he roared, brows drawn fiercely over his eyes.

  She withdrew physically, the bedside lamp illuminating her startled expression. An eerie familiarity swirled around J.T., barraging his senses. He gazed down into beautiful violet eyes so like his Amanda’s, had glimpsed the dimple both women possessed, and thought the crushing pressure in his chest would be his undoing. The need and connection he’d experienced with Caitlan had felt so damn real ... He squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach churning with terror.

  Oh, God, Amanda. But how could that be? He shook his head, wondering if he was going slowly insane. No! he raged inwardly. Amanda was dead, gone from this lifetime.

  A spike of anger renewed his fortitude, and he moved away from Caitlan. Rolling off the bed to his feet, he snatched his jeans from the floor and yanked them on, one leg at a time.

  “Dammit, Caitlan, what are you trying to pull?” He glared at her, grasping his ire with both hands, welcoming the heated fury in favor of the softening emotions threatening to engulf him. “If this is some kind of sick joke ...”

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head wildly. “No.” Sitting up, she reached for the bunched-up quilt and covered her naked body. Her eyes filled with hurt and confusion. “Johnny, I swear—”

  “Don’t call me that!” His jaw clenched so hard, his teeth hurt.

  She shrank back at his harsh tone. The pain and vulnerability etched on her face nearly disarmed him, but he refused to fall for the act. What else could this whole farce be? Christ, he’d fallen in love with ... an imposter. A fraud.

  Cursing himself for a fool, he grabbed his shirt at the end of the bed and shrugged into it. His fingers worked the buttons quickly as he paced the floor in agitation. He zipped up his pants, sparing Caitlan a sharp glance. “Who put you up to this? Huh?” He was going to kill the bastard responsible for this sadistic prank.

  Pushing the tangle of damp hair from her face, she drew a steady breath that did nothing to clear the uncertainty from her gaze. “My ... my Superiors.”

  He came to an abrupt stop, staring at her incredulously. “Your what?”

  She pressed shaky fingers to her temples and closed her eyes, a low groan of despair echoing in the room. “This is all so confusing,” she whispered.

  “Well, sort it out and fast,” he snapped, jamming his hands on his hips. “I’m losing my patience real quick, Caitlan.”

  “Amanda,” she corrected in a whisper.

  Dropping his hands back to his sides, he curled his fingers into tight fists. “Explain yourself before I toss you out on your pretty little ass,” he said in a slow, precise tone of voice.

  She looked up at him, indecision in her gaze. Swirling deeper, he glimpsed a hopelessness that brushed the edge of his heart and made him want to give into the plea for understanding shining in her eyes.

  Turning away, he walked to the window and glanced outside, seeing nothing but the murky darkness of night. Propping his shoulder against the wall, he faced her again. “I’m waiting.”

  Her fingers pleated the sheet in her lap. “I’m a ... guardian angel.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s a good one. I suppose you’re going to tell me the next time I hear a bell ring, a friend of yours is getting his wings.”

  Her spine straightened in indignation, her eyes flashing violet fire. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”

  “Go ahead.” A humorless smile curved his mouth, “This tale should be as entertaining as the one you told me of how you got lost on Rafferty property.” He was suddenly struck with the timely manner of her arrival on the Circle R. She’d claimed to save his life—just in the nick of time, from what she’d told him. There had been many inconsistencies in her story, but he’d had no proof other than to believe her. Could she truly be a guardian angel? His Amanda?

  He studied her warily from across the room as she worried on her lower lip. He searched for something otherworldly to substantiate her claim, a soft heavenly glow about her, a shimmering halo—albeit crooked after her erotic interlude with him. Something. Anything. But all he saw were her huge violet eyes drenched with a vulnerable weariness.

  He shook his head, hard. Oh, you’re losing it, Rafferty. You’re finally sailing over the edge. An angel, for chrissakes!

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “Can I get dressed before we discuss this?”

  He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. Considering her clothes were in the guest room, he grabbed a long-sleeved flannel shirt from his closet and tossed it next to her on the bed. She stared at the garment dumbly.

  “Put it on,” he said in a crisp tone. “It’s as generous as I feel at the moment.”

  A slight blush rose on her cheeks, and she reached for the shirt. The quilt dropped to her waist, and he sucked in a breath at the creamy perfection of her breasts. His body leapt eagerly, responding swiftly to her beauty. The only thought in his mind was to tumble her back on the bed and forget this crazy conversation. Cursing his lack of willpower, he looked away while she dressed.

  “My Superiors aren’t going to be happy about this,” she said so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

  Perplexed by her comment, he glanced back, relieved to see her clothed from neck to thigh. “What are you talking about?”

  She bent down and retrieved her medallion from the floor. The shiny gold glittered with life and energy in her hand. She closed
her fingers over the pendant and looked at him. “My angel Superiors. Chris and Mary. They’re the ones who assigned me to this mission.”

  Drained from the events of the past couple of hours, J.T. sat down on the far corner of the bed, sighing heavily. He didn’t know what to believe anymore, but one thing he did know for certain—Caitlan, or Amanda, or whoever the hell she was, did feel like a part of him, heart and soul. Still, Amanda as his guardian angel ...?

  He clasped his hands between his widespread legs, doing his best to keep an open mind for the explanation to come. “From the beginning, Caitlan.”

  Placing the medallion on the nightstand, she sat an arm’s length away from him and began her tale. Her Superiors, he learned, were high-ranking angels who assigned missions and kept tabs on the activities down on earth. He listened to Caitlan as she explained how she’d seen him get hit in the head, how her Superiors didn’t have anyone to send to earth to save him on such a last-minute crisis, and reluctantly agreed to send her to protect him. They’d suppressed her memory of her past with him and given her a new background and identity.

  “I was never supposed to remember my past as Amanda,” she concluded softly.

  “Then, how ...” He followed her gaze to the glimmering gold on the nightstand, recalling all the strange, unexplainable things he’d experienced in connection with that pendant, and with her.

  “The medallion,” she said, confirming his thoughts. “It links me to my Superiors. Without it on, the medallion could no longer protect my memory.” She glanced back at him, her gaze overflowing with love. “My feelings for you are too strong to be suppressed without the medallion.”

  His anger ebbed away, replaced by a reluctant curiosity. “Changing your name and identity is understandable under the circumstances, but why would your ... Superiors suppress your memory of your past with me?”

  “Conflict of interest. We’re eternal soulmates. They felt if they sent me on the mission without suppressing my memory, my feelings for you would cloud my judgment.” She gave him a small, bittersweet smile. “I’m afraid they were right. My love for you is so powerful, it’s distracted me from the very beginning of the mission. I’ve been acting more like a mortal than a guardian angel.”