Page 46 of Angel's Smoke

Iron slipped Anna’s finger free from his mouth and dropped a kiss on her palm, right where some mortal cultures believed a lifeline resided. He had to smile at that, given the way his own life had changed so drastically since she’d been in it. She flinched slightly, then curled her fingers around the side of his face and ducked her forehead against his shoulder.

Was she . . .?

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

Anna rocked her head back and forth against him, refusing to break the contact. “I didn’t know how soft your beard would feel against my skin there.”

“I knew how soft you’d feel. Been dreaming about it.”

“Oh mygod. I can’t believe you’re talking like that.”

“Believe it and don’t ever doubt it.”

The assurances fell easily from his lips, surprising him at just how few convictions he’d hung on to once he’d gotten Anna in his arms. All it took was one breathy little laugh against his collarbone and everyone one of his duty-bound burdens vacated the space between his ears until all that was left was what his soul needed to keep the woman in his arms right where she was.

Anna leaned back, removed her glasses, and placed them on the nightstand. He caught her hand before the frames hit the wood. “No, leave them on.”

“Why? They’ll just get in the way.”

Iron brushed his hands around the sides of her neck, then used the backs of them to fan out her glorious hair so it fell about her shoulders. He sifted his fingers through the soft strands, smiling at how he was finally able to touch them without some evil mind mist yanking her away from him again. Then he held her stare and made damn sure she saw the seriousness of his belief, and much more, reflected back at her. “I want you to see what I see. And what I see is a stunning creature who knows what she wants and has had to blind herself in a blurry world to be accepted. You don’t need to do that with me, because when you can see clearly—reallysee clearly—you’d be able to tell how just how fucking gorgeous you are.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t want to hear any more self-doubt creep in or witness her warring with a life she’d known versus a life he was trying to show her. Instead, he slipped her glasses back on her face, cupped her jaw, and sealed his lips to hers.

As he angled his head and took more and more of her into him, every worrisome thought knocking around his noggin vacated in favor of a far more basic and primal incentive: need. It was lust on the winds of logic. Pleasure chasing the most delicious sort of pain. And when Anna squirmed against his cock, rubbing that luscious bottom in time to the drugging pulls of his mouth, he damn near lost it.

Iron palmed her ass and stood, sucking down her sharp moans of approval. There was no fear, no tension in her body or uncertain jerks of meager touches. In this, they were in sync, as they seemed to have always been.

Anna fell onto the bed, but before she tried to scoot herself back to allow him to join her, he halted her movements, hooking his hands beneath her knees.

He knew all too well the ramifications of what came next, of what hereallywanted to do, and if Anna had been any other woman, that cardigan would have been nothing more than evergreen-colored shreds on his floor hoping for a second life as a bathmat. He knew what he looked like and damn well knew how big he was. And there were times when he used that to his advantage in the bedroom, when only certain types of females could scratch only certain types of itches. One woman, in particular, had made it seem like that was his crowning achievement and offering. A glory only he could provide.

But Iron pushed those thoughts away in favor of the feast before him. Anna flushed and panting, color spreading high in her cheeks that he had put there, looking at him with a fiery desire.

A fiery desire reflecting the topaz flames of his celestial power.

Shit. It was happening.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, a sprout of uncertainty bumping up against the bedrock of his need.

Anna shook her head. “Pain’s the furthest thing from my mind. Like, the literal furthest thing.”

He squeezed her knees gently. “Are you warm?” By the mages, he had to do this right, had to know if she really wanted this. Already, his fire was punching through his gut, raging to course through his body with unmatched speed.

“Hot.”

“But not in pain.”

She smiled and then parted her legs, widening the cradle of her hips before him. “Not a bit.”

Those three little words of confirmation were all his lust needed to stomp down his worry and pounce.

Iron grabbed her sweater’s hem and slid it off her. Fabric? Gone. Bra? Tossed to mages knew where. The leggings went next, then any barrier that prevented him from getting his hands on her bare flesh. Once she was laid out before him, perfect and preening, he moved to kiss her in the one place that had been tugging all his allegiance.

Her lower belly welcomed him with its plushness, the spot that housed a life Anna had trusted him with keeping safe, as well as her own. Iron whispered words against her flesh he knew she couldn’t understand or even hear, and that was fine with him. Those words weren’t for her. They were for another soul who he one day hoped to meet.

When he lifted his head, Anna’s neck was craned as well, and a curious sheen wetted the fiery eyes behind her glasses. He couldn’t let himself dwell on the moment too long. No good came from such introspection.

Instead, he grinned, ripped his shirt over his head, and crawled up her body. “If you’re tearing up, I have more work to do.”

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