Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter #7)(102)

“Nyree did it.” A smug smile.

Never had she thought she’d see Ransom gaga over a woman. It was cute. “So, when’s the wedding?”

“We haven’t decided, but it won’t be long. I figure if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it.” A glance from her to Janvier. “So . . .”

Her scowl made his grin widen. “Have a nice dinner!” he called out as they left, loud enough to alert the others in the gym. “Call me if you want any tips about doing dirty, dirty things on the back of a motorcycle!”

Their fellow hunters hooted and whistled.

Instead of snapping a quick comeback as she would’ve done before, Ashwini swiveled to haul Janvier down to her with a grip on his leather jacket and claimed his mouth in a deep, wet, possessive kiss that set the entire gym hollering. When she released him, he looked like he’d been hit over the head with a baseball bat. She took his hand, ignored the ruckus, and headed outside.

He didn’t speak until they were at his bike and she’d swung up behind him, the duffel slung across her back. Then he leaned backward into her, his hand on her thigh. “Merci, cher.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her position on the bike giving her the extra height. “I should’ve done it a long time ago.” Publicly claimed him for her own.

“You weren’t ready—and this is a moment I will never forget.” Sitting up, he passed over her helmet and put on his own.

The traffic was heavy but they made good time despite that, thanks to Janvier’s driving. It would’ve been reckless in another, less capable man. With him, it was simply exhilarating and they were back in her apartment not long afterward, both of them pumped and laughing.

When Janvier pushed her up against the wall after they entered and kissed her, his hand curving around her neck, she wrapped one leg around his and thrust her hands into his hair, sank into the heat and the strength of him. It felt so good to touch and be touched, but it wasn’t simply that. It was because this was him.

Her man.

He’d kissed her with a half smile, half laugh on his face and it felt like sunshine in her blood. Licking and tasting him, as he did her in turn, she bit down on his lower lip. “How am I doing?”

“You need lots of practice.” A glint in his eye. “On me. I insist.”

She bit him again for that, before sucking his lip and flicking her tongue over the sensual punishment. “Don’t complain if I wear you out, then.” Returning to the kiss with a smile that echoed his, she drank in the taste of him. “I like kissing you, cuddlebunny.”

His shoulders shook. Scraping his fangs lightly over her lips, he slid his hands down to cup her ass. “I acquiesce to being your cuddlebunny, if you’ll meet my terms. They involve naked cuddling and blood.”

“Done.” Laughing, she just drank in his smile, and then they were kissing again. Their breaths grew shorter, his body harder, hotter. Skin burning under her touch, he shrugged off his jacket to drop it to the floor. Ashwini ran her hands up his back, over the leather of the holster. “Knives,” she murmured, kissing his jaw, his throat.

Janvier’s muscles shifted, his arms crossing over his back. The slide of blade against scabbard and then the thump of two blades being embedded into the walls on either side of her head. She laughed softly. “You’re fixing the holes.”

“It will be my pleasure.” He busied himself kissing her neck as she undid the strap across his chest and pushed the holster off his muscular shoulders. Sometimes, she forgot how strong he was, but it was impossible to do that with him so close, his muscles fluid beneath his skin.

The holster and scabbards hit the carpet with a dull thud.

Sucking on her neck, Janvier pushed off and reached for the gun she wore in the thigh holster. “Will you shoot me if I touch your gun?”

“Not today.”

Deep male laughter, his cheeks creasing beautifully. Unable to resist, she pulled him back to her mouth and demanded another kiss. He gave it to her, but then broke off. “I do not intend to get accidentally shot in the family jewels, cher.”

“No, that would be a shame.” She tugged up his T-shirt and slid her hands over the hard ridges of his abdomen.

“That is not helping.” He groaned but managed to get the gun out of the holster. Making sure the safety was on, he put it on the entranceway table.

“Nuh-uh.” She pushed at him. “Not here.”

Instead of complaining, he let her go and used the chance to rip off his T-shirt. By the time she made it to the bedroom and put the gun on the bedside table, he’d shucked his boots and socks and was working on undoing his belt, having left a trail of discarded items behind him as he followed her. Her mouth watered. God, he was sexy with his hair all mussed up and his lips wet from her kisses, his body bared for her eyes only.

Pulling the belt out of its loops, he dropped it to the floor.

She walked over, put her hands on his hips, then slid down to press her lips to his navel, just above the button he’d flicked open on his jeans.

He said words she didn’t know in his native tongue, thrust his hand into her hair, and shuddered. “You cannot do that, sugar. Or I will embarrass myself.”

Rising slowly, kiss by kiss, she met his mouth with her own. He hauled her close, his erection pushing demandingly against her abdomen and his body heat a pulse. She ran her hands over him, loving the feel of him, the scent of him. He smelled . . . of Janvier. Masculine and hot and just Janvier.