Angel in Armani by Melanie Scott Read Free Book Online

settled astride him, pushing the shirt open with the impatience of a child tearing open a Christmas present.
    If he was to be hers for one night only then she was going to make the most of it. Enjoy every inch of him.
    She laid her hands on his chest and felt the bump of his heart under one of them, rushing fast like her own. So maybe he was human after all.
    Flesh and blood.
    She wriggled a little and felt the flesh part all too clearly. Nice. Very nice. But that would come later. No point rushing the touching. Start with the chest and work her way down. A smile bloomed on her face.
    Her palms warmed from the heat of his skin, tingling as his chest rose and fell beneath her. He didn’t talk, just lay quietly. The room was still very dark, though her eyes were starting to adjust a little, but somehow she knew that his eyes were focused on her face.
    There was something intimate in the weight of his unseen gaze. Too close, almost. More intimate than the fact that he was nearly half naked and she was straddling him, only thin cotton and wool separating them from being flesh to flesh.
    They stayed that way, breathing together until she began to be able to see him, a little. Even half hidden by the lack of light, he was beautiful.
    She bent down and kissed him again, wanting to be lost again, to not have to look at him a moment while she caught her breath.
    His hands came up around her upper arms and she sighed into him as their tongues met and the pleasure of his kiss cut off the thinking part of her brain with ruthless efficiency.
    So good.
    So very very good.
    Maybe they could just kiss until sunrise. Kiss like teenagers, lost in discovery.
    But that would mean wasting the rest of him. And that, no matter how glorious his kisses, would be something she’d regret until she was old and gray. And probably beyond.
    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