Angels Fall

needs and reason warred inside her.
    Part of her was falling apart. And part of her was falling away.
    "I think I—"
    "Need to he quiet," he finished and kissed her again.
    "I know. Maybe you could talk. But would you turn out the lights?"
    "I never turned them on."
    "Oh. Oh." Now the silver moonglow and the starshine that had been so lovely and appealing outside seemed too bright.
    "Pretend I'm still holding your hand so you don't run away."
    But she felt his hands run up her body, thumbs skimming not so gently over her breasts. Lovely little thrills. "How many hands do you have?"
    "Enough to get the job done. You ought to look at me. Look at me, Reece. That's the way. You know the first time I saw your"
    "In the… in the diner." The moonlight darkened his eyes, as if the green had been swallowed up by the night. "In Joanie's."
    "Yeah." He unbuttoned her shirt, lowered his head to close his teeth over her jaw until she trembled. "First time I saw you. I got that little snap in the blood. You know what I'm saying?"
    "Yes. Yes. Brody, just—"
    "Sometimes you act on it." He nipped his way down her throat. "Sometimes you don't, but you know when you feel it."
    "If it was dark… It'd be better if it was dark."
    He took the hand she'd lifted to cover the scar on her chest, drew it away again. "We'll test that theory sometime. You got some sexy skin here, Slim." He let his hands run up to her shoulders, sliding the shirt away as they traveled down her arms. "All smooth and soft. A guy just wants to lap it up. No, you don't." He wrapped her hair around his hand to keep her face lifted to his. "Keep looking at me."
    Cat's eyes, she thought. She was so close to them now the color seemed to have leaped back into them. A mix of green and amber, and so watchful. She didn't feel safe staring into them, not at all safe. But the fear was somehow thrilling.
    Then the fingers of his free hand snapped open the hook of her bra. and her own eves rounded.
    Even as the nervous laugh tickled her throat he was devouring her again, mouth to mouth, body to body. Everything about him was hard and strong and just a little rough. Everything about him was exactly what she wanted.
    Hands along her skin, learning secrets shed forgotten she had, teeth grazing, causing delicious little lines of heat. She felt him loosen her belt before his hands slid erotically under denim to stroke flesh.
    Her response came in spurts. Shy and hesitant, avid and eager. But whatever roller coaster she was on, she was dragging him right along with her, the breathless climb up, the windy flight down, and all the dangerous curves between.
    She was slight and tight with that smooth, soft skin seductive in its fragility. She fumbled at his shirt, and her breath caught, caught again and again, whenever he touched her. Wherever he touched her.
    So he savored and sampled and savaged while his control teetered on a slippery edge.
    Her arms tightened around him when he scooped her up, all but tossed her on the bed. Her gasp of excited shock was muffled against his mouth. In a kind of frenzy she fought to toe off her shoes, bucking her hips so he could yank the jeans down.
    His mouth tore from hers to feast at her throat while her fingers dug into the muscles of his back, his shoulders. Everything in her was rising toward that heat, the threat and the promise or it.
    When his mouth closed greedily over her breast, her heartbeat went to thunder. Her pulse exploded to a gallop.
    His weight pinned her, his mouth claimed her. Even through the silver haze of lust, panic began to crawl. She fought it, willing her mind to shut off, to let her body rule. But in the end they both betrayed her as her lungs simply shut down.
    "I can't breathe. I can't. Wait, stop."
    It took him a moment to understand it was panic, not passion. He rolled aside, then gripped her shoulders to yank her up to sitting.
    "You are breathing." He gave her a little shake. "Stop gasping for air. You'll just hyperventilate."
    "Okay. Okay." She knew the routine. She had to concentrate on each breath, on the physical act of inhaling slow and steady.
    Mortified, she crossed her arms over her breasts as she sat in a slant of moonlight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Goddamn it, I'm sick of being a freak."
    "Then stop."
    "You think it's so fucking easy? Oh, I'll just be normal now. You think I like sitting here naked and humiliated?"
    "I don't know, do you?"
    "You son of a bitch."
    "There you go, sweet-talking me again."There