Kahlen Aymes - Angel After Dark

Mark Swanson was an evil bastard. There was no getting around it. He was well known and had a successful chain of dry cleaners that his grandfather had started fifty years earlier. He was connected with important people and his businesses were located all over the greater Chicago area. Everyone knew his smarmy face because it was plastered all over the advertising for Swanson Cleaners. Angel shuddered just thinking of that face. He was guilty as hell and she knew it in her gut. She had a sixth sense about scum like him, but she didn’t have a thing to pin on him.

Angel ran both hands through her long hair and took a deep breath. She was frustrated, listening to his calm tone, methodically describing his relationship with his stepdaughter; completely different than how she described it. He was cold and emotionless. An icy shiver ran through Angel in reaction, the hair on her arms standing straight up.

The girl, on the other hand, was emotionally broken and terrified. It was obvious which of the two was telling the truth. The problem was, the prick had mastered his answers to the standard tests, completely fooling them. Even the polygraph that he’d taken he passed with flying colors. The fucker didn’t profile like an abuser or rapist, and her professional reputation rested on her honesty in what she found in the results. When he left her office the week prior, he’d been smug and condescending; threatening.

“Make sure to get your notes all organized, little lady, and the results are what they need to be. Right, honey? Then we’ll all live happily ever after.”

“Just get out of my office. You can’t fool me.” Her voice had been cold as ice, but deep down, she was scared. He was dangerous and thought himself untouchable.

“And you should hold your tongue if you know what’s good for you, eh?” He’d reached out and touched her chin with his index finger, to which Angel had immediately batted his hand away and glared. Swanson simply grinned and walked out like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Her chest tightened in disgust. He had no fear of being caught or he wouldn’t be so forthcoming with his threats. He had no conscience, no remorse. “Slimy bastard. This is when I hate my fucking job. Uuughhh!” she screamed into the empty air.

The hearing was in two months, but her deposition was Tuesday. There was nothing left to do tonight, and her plans included getting a bath and making something simple to eat. Her apartment was quiet as she walked through the living room on her way to the kitchen. Her eyes fell on the large bouquet of purple lilies on the square, dark wood coffee table in front of her plush olive green suede sofa. The apartment was clear of clutter, but the furniture was a mixture of modern lines and lots of luxurious comfort; plush cushions, dark wood, and slate tiles in the entryway and bathrooms.

Becca wasn’t happy when Angel brushed over the details of her date with Alexander Avery, but all she shared was that he was charming and a few elegant details about the restaurant. She ran her hand over the marble countertop as she passed; thoughts of the more intimate moments came flooding to the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t ashamed of what happened, but something inside her wanted to keep those surreal moments to herself. Maybe it was because she didn’t want Becca to know she’d succumbed just like every other weak-willed woman in Alex Avery’s sights. Maybe it would hurt less when it ended if she could pretend it never happened, and she wouldn’t be able to do that if her best friend knew the details.

The two phones were sitting on the island and Angel stopped herself, a strong urge to turn them on just to see if he’d called. She left her phone where it was and picked up the one from Alex. As she looked at it, knowing she was about to give in, her heart started to hum. What if he didn’t call? As hard as it was to admit, she wanted to see him, hear his voice. She closed her eyes and turned on the phone. Even if he did call, she wouldn’t be able to get the message. What was the password to the voicemail? He hadn’t said.

The screen lit up as the phone turned on, and there were no missed calls. Her heart fell and her cheeks burned with a flush.

This is what I get for fucking him last night! I should have trusted the logic and not given in to the goddamn lust. Angel was angry at her weakness… for allowing the faintest hope that he was different. Until that second, she hadn’t really known how badly she wanted him to be more than Whitney said he was. She really wanted him to be as perfect as he seemed.

Angel sucked in a deep breath and scowled, trying to push down the disappointment that left her reeling. She went to the cupboard and pulled out some angel hair pasta, then to the refrigerator for parmesan cheese, fresh garlic, tomatoes, parsley, and butter. She decided she needed some wine to take the edge off of her emotions and she opened a bottle of chardonnay that was chilling in the refrigerator.

As she poured, she was startled when the Nickleback song blasted behind her, but even as she spilled the wine all over the counter, her face split into a happy smile. “Crap!”

Alex, the display announced the caller, and she smiled, happiness rushing through every cell in her body. “I am so screwed here,” she muttered as she picked up the phone and answered. “Hello?”

“I waited as long as I could stand. Are you done working?” Alex’s velvet voice ran over her like warm silk. A smile softened her face, memories of the night before warming her skin and throbbing through her body.

“Just finished.”

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I was just going to make some pasta.”

“Pasta sounds good. What kind?”

A wicked giggle burst from her lips. “Hot naked.”

“You’re shitting me, Angel,” he said in a deeper tone, chuckling. “You’re a naughty tease.”

“No, seriously,” she laughed softly, moving to get a rag to wipe up the spilled wine. “I’m making hot naked. It’s really yummy. And super easy.” She was smiling so hard her cheeks were starting to hurt.

A low laugh preceded his words. “Yes, I’m sure it is. I can make hot naked, too. But my version is hard.”

Fuck, he was sex personified, she thought with a grin. “You have no idea.”

He laughed again and her nipples actually hardened at the sound. “Oh, but I do. Those are my three favorite words.”

She frowned slightly and bit her lip. “Hot, naked, and yummy?”

“No, hot naked, Angel.”

“Want some?” she teased, knowing full well what she was implying. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, so much pleasure in just talking to him, imagining what her words were doing to his body.

“Some hot naked Angel? You don’t have to ask me twice.”

She was giggling by now, so hard she almost snorted. “No, hot naked pasta. It’s only fresh garlic sautéed in butter, poured over angel hair with fresh Parmesan. If you want it a little more dressed, I can add parsley and chopped Roma tomatoes.”

Alex laughed with her. “No, babe, I want all naked, all the time.”

“Okay.”

His voice sobered and deepened slightly, his tone inquiring if this was an invitation. “Okay?”

The implications were clear. This was decision time. Should she give herself a chance? Should she give Alex a chance? “Yeah, okay.”

“Now?”

“Alex, just get your ass over here. But I warn you, I’m not fancy tonight, so don’t go getting all beautiful.” She looked down at her jean shorts and plain white T-shirt. Quite a change from how he’d seen her last.

“Should I bring anything? Dessert?” They both laughed softly together, so in sync; knowing exactly what the other was saying and the sexy game that they played so well.

“Nope. I got this.” She felt mischievous and delirious all at the same time. Knowing he’d be in front of her in a fraction of an hour excited her more than she wanted to admit.

“Yeah… you do. But we’ll negotiate the dessert later. But I warn you, I have one hell of a sweet tooth of late.”

Excitement flowed through Alex as he waited outside Angel’s door. There was something between them that made it impossible to resist.

His heart pounded heavily in his ears as he pressed his hand to the cherry wood. The smooth, elegant surface gave no hint as to what lay behind it. So much like the woman who lived there. Angel held herself in such control—sophisticated and subdued—but underneath there was passion like Alex had never experienced. Her sharp wit and potty mouth were unexpected. He shook his head in amazement at the juxtaposition.

Stepping back slightly, his eyes widened in surprise as the door swung open. Gone was the polished business suit and elegant cocktail dress, replaced by tattered jean shorts and a non-descript T-shirt, similar to the first time he’d seen her. Her legs were long and golden, and Alex took in every inch as he worked his way up her body. Her chestnut tresses were piled atop her head in a messy knot, held in place with some sort of elastic band, and she had some rectangular metal glasses sitting on her pretty nose.

Angel leaned on the doorframe, her arms crossed and one foot crossed over the other. “Hmmph.” Her left eyebrow shot up above the charcoal-framed glasses. “Take a picture, it might last longer,” she scoffed with a teasing smirk. “I told you I was a mess.”

Alex himself was casually dressed in jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, which lightly clung to his muscular torso. He was ripped, and all she could think about was how it felt to be in those strong arms. It created vivid recollections in her mind of how the muscle played beneath her fingers and how his breath came in uninhibited pants the night before. His jaw was dusted with just a smattering of stubble, and his hair was the same perfect disarray that she ached to thread her hands through.

He put a hand on his chest. “Um…” he began as her eyes raked him over in a similar fashion. Angel stepped aside and ushered him inside. He grinned and her heart did somersaults. “Take a picture, it might last longer,” he retorted.

She laughed softly as he moved past her. “Hey, what’s good for the goose, is good for the gander.”

He turned to watch her close the door and bolt the lock; the gentle curves of her hips, the slimness of her back, and round fullness of her rear, getting his full attention.

“What?” he asked incredulously when their eyes met.

“Oh, nothing.” Angel shrugged slightly. “Just something my nana used to say when I was growing up. It means…”

“Yeah, I know what it means.” His green eyes burned, and her full lips lifted at the corners in the start of a smile. “That you give as good as you get. I like that a lot.”

Alex longed to grab her and press his mouth to hers but somehow managed to resist the urge. He needed her to trust him. It was the only way she’d open up and he wanted that for the first time in his life. He actually wanted to know her. The thought stunned him, and Alex tugged on the hair at his right temple in agitation.

Angel sauntered back into the kitchen, shooting a look over her shoulder indicating that he should follow. He did, but before she got far, he reached out and slid his hand down her arm until his fingers closed warmly around hers, pulling her gently back toward him. Her free hand came up to rest on the solid wall of his chest and she felt the heat of his skin radiating through the material of his shirt.

Angel tried to mask the shivers running through her; to hide the electricity she felt at his slightest touch. The firm muscles under her hands did little to calm her down. Angel’s mouth dropped open slightly as her lids became hooded and Alex couldn’t help but register the implications. Still holding her hand, he cupped her cheek with the other and brushed the pad of his thumb over the fine bones in her cheek and then gently across her full lower lip.

“I told myself I wouldn’t touch you tonight, but I can’t seem to help it,” Alex murmured softly, his forehead coming to rest gently against hers. Her breath rushed out and he sucked it into his lungs. He wanted every nuance of her, and the knowledge rushed over him in waves, but he held himself firmly in check. He was used to taking what he wanted, but this time, what he wanted was Angel to give.

Angel’s body pulsed and her breathing quickened. She longed to press into him; to feel his hardness against her soft curves and have his mouth and tongue inflicting the sweet torture she knew he was capable of.