Angel Falling (Falling #1)(46)

“Never a dull moment with you, Stud.” She leaned into my side. I could tell she was trying to lighten the mood but I was good and pissed. Unfortunately, her shoulders were stiff, held back into a perfect arrow. I’d relax her nice and good back home. A few well-given orgasms and she’d forget all about tonight’s happenings.

Home.

Without realizing it, her penthouse was becoming more like home to me than the ranch. My men were still here on the job and I was improving quicker than expected. Doctor said I’d be back to work in two to three more weeks, at least doing desk duty. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel such restlessness.

We made good time back to the city from her parent’s mansion, but the ride was quiet. I could feel the tension in Aspen’s shoulders. She stared out the window the entire time. Every so often I’d catch a glance from Oliver or Dean.

Once back home, Aspen went straight to the bathroom and started the shower. I sat on her bed thinking about my next move. She was quiet, not exactly mad. She seemed … sad. Of all the things I’d seen her feel, sad hadn’t been one of them. I didn’t like it one bit.

Deciding to eat crow, I ventured into the bathroom. She was standing under the spray, her body porcelain and perfect through the clear glass. I removed my clothes and entered the shower. She barely registered my presence. Her shoulders sagged and her head tipped low in defeat.

I kissed the warm skin between her shoulder blades. She sighed. I slowly started to massage her neck, working out the kinks and knots I found there.

“You going to talk to me, Angel? You’ve been pretty quiet.” I continued to knead her muscles and smooth my hands down her back.

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” she whispered.

“What shouldn’t be, Darlin’?”

“This. A relationship. We’re so … ”

“So what, Angel?” I pulled her back until her slick body melded to mine.

“Different,” she finished on an exhale.

I slid my hands up her wet body; one hand cupped her breast, the other her neck. I tilted her chin to the side and trailed kisses up the white column from behind. She moaned when my fingers rolled her nipple, elongating the tender flesh.

“Different can be good,” I told her, my hands continuing to caress and stroke.

“You think so?” Her response was almost lost to the sound of rushing water as it poured over our bodies.


“I know so.” I slid my hands down her body and pushed my knee between her legs, encouraging her to widen them. Leaning down, I lined up my cock with her entrance. In one thrust I was embedded deep inside her slick heat.

“Oh God, Hank!” she cried out.

“See, Angel.” Thrust. “Has it ever—” Thrust. “Been like this—” Thrust. “Before?” Thrust.

She shook her head, bit her lip, and clenched me internally. “I’m going to come,” she whispered.

“Yes you are, and I’m going to make it happen again.” Thrust. “And again. Until you know damn sure that no man will ever fulfill you physically or emotionally like I do, Angel.”

After that last statement I pounded into her. Her hands slammed against the wall in front of her as I took her roughly from behind. I had a point to make. She came over and over again as I hammered into her core. “You feel that? You feel your body succumbing to it. Let it happen, Angel. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” I wanted her to beg me to stop. Beg me to never leave.

“Hank, I can’t, I can’t, no more,” she cried, then moaned as I reached around and found her clit.

“Another. Just one more. I want you to come with me, Angel.” That did her in. Her * clamped down around my length so tight it sucked all the air from my lungs. My cock jerked, pouring my seed into her.

We both tumbled into a heap of naked limbs and arms to the floor. I caught her listless form as she slid into my lap. My shoulder screamed like hell, but I didn’t care. That was one of the most intense experiences of my life. I knew at that moment that we could never be apart. She was it for me. There would be no other like her. Now I just needed to convince her of it.





Chapter 11



Something about Hank was off. All week he’d been less demanding of my time, more attentive to what he perceived were my needs. Instead of rushing to bed, he wanted to talk each night. Really talk about my day, about life, about random things. It was nice, normal even. We watched movies together, went for walks, got ice cream, he even went so far as to make me breakfast in bed one morning. I doubt Gustav was thrilled with that. The Swede didn’t take kindly to anyone cooking in my kitchen but him.

Even the sex was different this week. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was, but it seemed as though it held more meaning.

I wondered briefly if it had anything to do with the fact that his mother was coming into town this evening and would be here for a few days.

Excitement and dread took over my thoughts in equal parts. What if she didn’t like me? What if she made Hank go back home? He held his mother on a pedestal, something I was completely unaccustomed to.

My mother was an evil she-devil who didn’t deserve more than a fleeting thought. He doted on his mother and talked about her as if she were made of sugar and spice and everything nice. I pictured a Mary Poppins type. A real do-gooder. I was doomed.