The Naughty Angel Returns (Naughty Angels In Love) Read Online Free PDF Page A

again…”
    “Tomorrow morning there will be time enough for that,” he said, gazing down at her in a brooding manner.
    She leaned closer, unable to help herself, but her feminine pride dictated that he make the next move. The pulse beat heavy in his throat, and his eyes glittered dangerously. Her gaze moved to his mouth. What might he taste like? As the thought crossed her mind, he bent forward to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her hard, and she melted into his embrace. He growled, his hands slicking down her flanks to cup her ass and press her tighter to the hard ridge of his erection. She whimpered into his mouth as her mound pressed against his hard-on, and her whole body quivered.
    He flicked his thumbs over her nipples, making them rock hard in an instant as she shuddered against him. Suddenly she was on the brink of the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life, and she couldn't move. He broke the kiss to nuzzle her nape, his cock pressing harder. “Take the leap for me, love,” Crispin said with a growl. “Come for me.”
    He thrust deeper, and she came with a helpless cry, letting him support her when she would have fallen. In the afterglow, she sagged against him, his cock still a burning brand against her mound.
    He let go of her. “This is crazy.”
    “No. Leaving me like this is crazy,” she protested, trying to hold him, but he stepped back, an implacable look back on his hard face.
    “There are pajamas in the dresser and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. We'll talk in the morning.”
    She frowned at him as he retreated, shutting the door firmly behind him. Rejected! Well, heck, she hadn't turned out to be much of a femme fatale in this incarnation.
    Crispin stalked into the master bedroom, hard as a rock and pissed at the world in general and himself in particular. What the hell did he think he was playing at? Rule one of investigative reporting was to stay objective. And even more important, you didn't screw a witness. Yeah…tell that to his throbbing dick. Shedding clothes, he stomped into his bathroom and turned the shower on cold, knowing it probably wouldn't be enough to put him out of his misery. Only the bewitching brunette in the guest room could do that. He groaned, his hand pumping his cock, and came against the tiles. Frustrated, he slapped off the shower.
    Rolling into bed ten minutes later, his need temporarily sated, he tried to block out the seductive distraction next door. She needed her space, and he was going to give it to her, even if it killed him. He fell into a restless slumber.
    He didn't know how much time had passed when he was jerked awake by a scream. His heart almost stopping, he rolled out of bed and reached for his gun in the bedside table. The fact that he was an expert marksman was one reason he'd felt confident in bringing her to his place. Now he cursed his rash decision. If she died because of him, he'd never forgive himself.
    He made his way stealthily to her room, stark naked, able to move quietly thanks to his military training; he hadn't always just been a journalist. Her door was still closed, and he chilled when her heard her let out another whimper. Damn! He pushed back his rage to steady his aim, silently turned the knob, and pushed open the door. Darting through it, weapon drawn, he sagged with relief when he saw that Haley seemed to be alone. He scanned the room to be sure and then focused on his witness.
    She was tossing and turning on the bed, her covers rumpled at her feet as if she'd kicked them off. And she hadn't put on the pajamas. He gulped when his hungry gaze took in her natural beauty. He wasn't the type to go for fashion models, but there was something about this siren that drew him to her.
    “No, I won't let you hurt him…” she murmured in her sleep, tossing her head.
    Shit, he should have expected her to have nightmares after the trauma she'd been through. Some rescuer he was turning out to be. And she was worried about