She leaned back on her heels and gazed up into his eyes. Heat, hunger, and an emotion she wasn’t quite sure of moved in them. Well, here went all or nothing.
“This is the last thing you have to pay for, my Druid.” She laid her palm over the black rose on his hip. “Your special magic made me love you, Con.” She replaced her palm with her mouth. And carefully traced the flower with her tongue.
“Set. Me. Free. Forget it. I’ll do it myself.” With a growl that would’ve thrown fear even into the heart of Holgarth, he broke the plastic manacles.
Uh-oh. She scrambled to her feet. “Gee, they don’t make dungeon equipment like they used to.”
That’s all she had time to say before he was on her. He spun her around, and before she could yelp her alarm, he’d unzipped her dress and it was floating to the floor. Since everything else was gone, she kicked off her sandals.
“I’ll never make it up those steps. So we have a choice, sweet-heat. We can make love on the concrete or do it standing up. I’m a softy at heart, so you get to choose.” His breath was hot against her neck.
The concrete biting into her behind? Not likely. “The wall sounds sensational. But do it fast before I self-destruct.”
She braced herself against the wall while he gripped her bottom and lifted her off her feet. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she put her head back and whooped her joy as he drove into her. Faster, harder, faster, harder. The words ran together in her mind as the pressure built, built, and then exploded. The earth rocked and rolled, the volcano spewed fire into the sky, and she screamed her completion to the universe.
Her legs slid to the floor, but they sort of wobbled. Con kept his arms locked around her, and she could feel the thump of his heart as an extension of her own heart.
His breath was still coming in painful gasps. “I love you, Mandy Harcourt. Marry me, and you can paint all the walls of our house cream for the rest of our lives.”
He loved her that much? Mandy leaned away from him so she could see his eyes. She knew he’d probably see the shine of tears in hers, but it didn’t matter. She was just so damn happy. “Really?”
“Really.” He scooped up their clothes scattered around the dungeon. “Let’s get upstairs so we can generate some plant growth.”
“We can hang your painting on one of the walls of our house.” She raised her arms as he slid her dress over her head and zipped it up.
“Great.” He picked up each of her feet to slip on her sandals.
“I’ll wear a red wedding dress.” That would make the sluts in her basement cheer.
“You can wear cream if you want.” He must be feeling mellow.
“We have to invite Holgarth and Sparkle to the wedding.” Mandy frowned. “I know it’s unusual, but I want Sparkle to bring Deimos. I mean, he sort of helped to bring us together.”
Con mumbled something as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. She’d take it as a yes.
“Do you think the owner would let us take Sweetie Pie and Jessica home with us?” She was feeling generous toward the world.
“No. Absolutely not.”
Well, that was definite. “Sheesh, you didn’t have to shout.”
“Look at me, Mandy.” He tipped her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. “Besides loving me for the rest of your life, there’s one other thing I’d like you to do.”
“Anything.” Well, almost anything. She still wouldn’t paint the castle walls red.
“I want you to model for me. I want to paint pictures of you in every mood, with sun shining on your face, and shadows turning you all sensual and mysterious.” He stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand.
She widened her eyes and slid her tongue across her lower lip. “I don’t care where or how you paint me, but just make sure of one thing.”
“What?”
“Always color me wicked.”
Keep reading for a special preview of Nina Bang’s new book . . .
WICKED EDGE
Available in paperback March 2012 from Berkley Sensation!
“How ugly and horrible are they? Do they coat your skin with slime? Does their stench make you nauseous? Do you feel like you’re walking into the bowels of hell?
Passion sighed. Of all the heavenly contacts they could’ve assigned to her, why Hope? Once a day she’d have to listen to this idiocy in her head.
She could picture Hope sitting in her little cubicle surrounded by the neutral colors Archangel Ted loved. Ted, along with everything else in heaven, was bland and boring. Okay, so Passion could include herself in the bland and boring category. She accepted the reality of her existence. But she’d looked into enough human minds to know their vision of heaven was a fantasy.
Humans. Sure, they could get sick and die. Fine, so they suffered heartbreak and other emotional traumas. But from Passion’s viewpoint, things were a lot more exciting on the mortal plane. Could anyone blame her for trying to spice up her own world? Guess that was a resounding yes.
She supposed the final straw for Ted was when she talked the other angels in her department into painting their cubicles lime green. In her opinion, Ted had some serious control issues.
So here she was, on the outside looking in.
And you have only yourself to blame. If Passion had been a better angel, she wouldn’t have drawn this punishment—a still-to-be-determined amount of time spent living on earth as a human. No powers, no friends, forced to check in once a day with Hope-the-heavenly-drama-queen. The only good thing? The Council of Justice had at least given her some privacy. Hope couldn’t read her thoughts; she could only hear what Passion spoke out loud.
“They’re . . .” Way too beautiful. Evil should appear
