“I won’t make a foolish error like that again.” His one hand came up to roll her nipple with his thumb and finger. Darts of pleasure shot to her core, her arousal flaming higher. He kissed her again, with scorching carnality this time. “I’m dying to taste you,” he rasped. “Let my tongue do between your thighs what I’m doing to your mouth—will you let me?”
Held in the grips of mind-numbing pleasure, all she could do was nod. His hands slid beneath her skirt, he stroked her bare thighs. “I adore your legs—wrap them around me.”
He picked her up, braced her against the open door, and she did as he asked. Her short skirt slid back, his rigid sex hitting her damp silk-covered core. His mouth returned to hers. He ground his erection against her clit.
God.She moaned into his kiss, adrift in a sea of desire. She’d never experienced anything like this, was powerless against the sensation rolling through her body. His hunger, his need consuming her, she slipped her hands beneath his shirt and caressed the hard muscles of his scarred back—
“Dammit.” A low growl escaped him and he lowered her to the floor. Darci stumbled and grabbed onto him.
“We have company.”
Blaéz rebuttoned her top she hadn’t realized he’d unfastened and saw the frustration churning inside her reflected in his gaze. Her chest heaving, she hastily straightened her clothes. “Who?”
“The Arc.”
Huh?“The arc what?”
He led her away from the door to the large desk adjacent to the fireplace. “As in the archangel. He’s our leader.”
Darci blinked. An archangel was the leader of the Guardians? Through her heart drumming in her ears, she heard heavy boot steps. Her gaze darted back to the doorway. A tall, dark-haired man entered and stopped a few feet from them. Starkly handsome. Eyes of shattered sapphires held her spell-bound. A silver glow gleamed out from the splintered cracks in his deep blue irises.
“Celt.” The low, powerful cadence of his voice pinned Darci to the floor. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. The next moment, Blaéz’s warm calloused hand drew her to him, his hold possessive. “Michael, this is Darci Callahan.”
“Welcome, Darci.”
She croaked, “Hello…” and trailed off. She had no idea how to address a being like him.
“Michael will do,” he said as if understanding her dilemma.
Hands on his hips, he cut a cursory glance around the enormous library. His faded navy t-shirt stretching over his chest. He’d bunched his hair into a short messy ponytail, the shorter strands escaped the tie and hung down his face.
“It’s been an age,” Michael said, “and we have acquired many books that appear to be in dire need of cataloguing. I’m glad they’ll get the attention they deserve now.”
She nodded in agreement.
“Anything you need to know, Hedori would be able to help if we’re not around.”
Another nod. Darci felt like a bobbing doll, words just refused to come out. She was talking tothearchangel. She’d always thought of celestial beings as wearing long white gowns and possessing enormous wings—not standing in a library, dressed like a biker.
Michael said something to Blaéz. He nodded and stroked a hand down her back before the two men strode toward the door, their conversation held in low tones.
Forcing her gaze away from them, she examined the rest of her new domain.
Wow, in charge of a private library—heck, this had to be even bigger than the one she’d worked at. That reminded her she had to tell Lester she was quitting—a task she didn’t look forward to, and also ask Blaéz about her things, and she also needed her cell phone.
He came back a few minutes later. “All okay, then?”
“It’s a dream come true.” She couldn’t contain her smile, then she glanced at the doorway. But the archangel had left.
Reeling in her surreal moment, she tried to focus on what she wanted to tell Blaéz. Work—the library. Right. “Blaéz, I need to go in today. I have to let Lester know I won’t be returning.”
He didn’t look happy. “Darci—”
“Blaéz, it has to be done. I can’t resign with just a phone call. Lester is pedantic enough to call my family, and that would open up a load of questions I’m not ready to answer.”
“Would you trust me to handle your work issues?”
“How.”
