Page 13 of Angel In Armani

Lucas Angelo was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

She’d seen enough in her life to know that you shouldn’t waste those.

So she had to seize the day—or the night—and make the sort of memory that would make her eighty-year-old self very happy when she looked back on it.

She began to kiss her way down his neck, taking a moment to press her face into the place where the muscle of it started to curve in his chest and breathe him in. She still didn’t know what it was he smelled like, but up close it was intoxicating.

Intoxicating was good. She moved lower, mouth drifting downward, kissing his skin and sucking. Her right hand found his nipple and pinched it. He made a suitably pleased noise.

Good. Something he liked.

She did it again and he groaned this time, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine to light every nerve between her legs. She wanted to hear him make that sound again. She wanted to know that it was her who’d made him make it.

Plain old Sara Charles.

And suddenly she wasn’t so sure she had the patience to explore him slowly.

She sat up and ran her hand down his chest, following the trail of dark hair that led the way, and made herself stop when she reached the waistband of his trousers. Curling her fingers around it and just slightly under it, feeling his stomach muscles tighten and tremble as she touched warm skin.

“God,” he muttered, but he still stayed still, letting her do what she wanted.

What she wanted, she knew, was to see him naked. She reached for the button of his fly and dealt with it and the zip.

He lifted his hips and she tugged his trousers down and away. He kicked free of them. Sara tossed them off the bed where they landed in a heap on the grimy carpet—which would no doubt have horrified whoever had made them, but she didn’t care.

His boxer briefs were dark. Black or dark gray, she couldn’t tell which, but they hugged every inch of him. There were plenty of inches to display, too, and even in the dim light, she saw the outline of his cock straining against the fabric.

She sucked in a breath, lost in the sight of him for a moment, and then tugged at the briefs, too, eager to see what lay beneath.

His skin was hot to the touch, and the muscles of his stomach tensed and tightened as she brushed over them. As the briefs slid free, he muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t make out but the humming frustration in the sound made her stomach tighten and her breath catch.

His cock was free and she hated the lack of light that meant she couldn’t see it clearly.

But the weather gods weren’t cooperating and there was no sudden flash of lightning to show her the way; nor was there a sudden return of the electric lights. So touch it would have to be. Touch and … wait, yes. There was a whole other sense to be indulged.

Taste.

The thought settled into her head. Of setting her mouth to his skin and finding out what he tasted like. It made her throat dry and she froze for a moment, the mental image blanking out her senses.

“Sara?”

The question was just loud enough to jolt her back to action. She shifted herself backward on his legs so she could get a better angle to explore him.

“Everything okay?” Lucas asked.

She nodded, then realized that he might not be able to see that response. “Everything’s just fine,” she said and wondered who it was exactly who was talking with that husky edge to her voice. “Just admiring the view.”

“Do helicopter pilots get superpowers then? Can you see in the dark after all?”

“No, but I do have excellent night vision,” she said. “And I’ve been told that I have very good hands.” She let her fingers drift then, one hand making an arc up his hip and across his stomach before trailing down to trace a circle around the very tip of him, which earned her another of those very pleasing noises. Really, sound was an underrated sense. She laid the flat of her hand over him then curled her fingers around him.

His skin here was even hotter, and the warmth combined with the smooth-over-hard texture of him made a little gasp escape her throat.

He felt extraordinary.

Even in the darkness where she could only dimly see the gorgeous face, her body was reacting to him like he was 100 percent whatever the Sara equivalent of catnip was.

She touched him gently, exploring, and then—unable to resist any longer—she bent her head and let her tongue follow the path of her fingers.

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