Wrong Kind of Paradise Read online

  below.

  Blood pounded in his ears. He sucked air into his lungs. Need thrummed through his veins.

  He needed to slow the pace. If he lost all control, he would ravish her and wreck her innocence.

  And he’d never forgive himself if that were to happen.

  He wanted to calm the storm, to enjoy the journey, but she would have none of that. Panting against

  her lips he whispered, “Slow down, let me love you.”

  His voice seemed to soothe her and the kisses gentled. His hand rose and caressed her cheek. She

  was like a storm, raging and thundering until the touch of his hand calmed her to a slow drizzle. He kissed

  her cheek and then her lips. “I need you like I’ve never needed anyone before.”

  And it scares me to death.

  ~*~

  Angel’s thoughts scattered and trickled in her mind like a thousand mirrored pieces twinkling in the

  dark. Unable to form a complete, coherent sentence, she snapped her mouth closed.

  “Look at me,” Blac demanded.

  Her eyes fluttered open and his intense stare caressed every angle of her face as if he were

  imprinting it to memory. He gave a soft smile. “You are beautiful.”

  Pleasure warmed her cheeks. “You are biased.”

  “I am honest.”

  She brought his mouth to hers. His tongue intertwined with hers and danced inside her mouth. She

  sighed as he trailed his searing lips across her jaw to her neck.

  He retraced his path to her breasts and heat smoldered between her thighs. She wiggled against him,

  trying to ease the ache and he groaned, closing his eyes. She smiled and lifted her hips against him, testing

  the newfound sensual boundaries.

  Again he made a tortured sound. “You’re killing me,” he whispered.

  “And you love it.”

  He continued his foray between her breast to her stomach, and tingles skittered through her body.

  Ecstasy washed over her as his tongue dipped into each crevice and traced every line of her figure.

  His dark hair fanned against her belly and sent another ripple of pleasure through her. Her fingers

  entwined in his hair and grazed his scalp. He settled between her thighs more fully and his hot breath

  teased her skin.

  Angel clamped her legs closed against his odd assault. His hands glided down each thigh and he

  whispered incoherent words against her flesh. It didn’t matter what he said, but the glorious brush of

  breath on her skin caused goose flesh to rise. She shivered.

  “Let me love you, Angel. Let me in.”

  His gentle words calmed her, and she relaxed. Soft lips tasted her inner knees and licked a path

  toward her center. Her heart pattered to a stop. Surely, he wouldn’t...

  But he did. His tongue sought and found her smoldering center to tease the hidden bud within the

  folds. Angel gasped, jumped, but his hands eased her back to the floor.

  Rapture closed her eyes and excitement dampened her skin. She panted as he continued his

  titillating torment until her body tightened.

  He rose over her and divested himself of his clothes. Glorious. Male perfection. And it was within

  reach. How many times had she imagined this very moment?

  Poised above her, he chanted her name between kisses. Angel opened to him and his body slid

  against her. Curious, she reached between them.

  Shameless, she palmed him. Awed by the pulsing flesh in her grip, Angel’s eyes widened. Blac

  ground his teeth together. His face scrunched as if in pain. “Did I hurt you?” she asked.

  “In a good way...” His voice sounded raspy and raw.

  Angel stroked him, his head falling back on his shoulders. Intrigued, she pushed him over and

  climbed on top of him. His hands kneaded her thighs and he groaned as she tortured him.

  Just as she leaned down to get a better view, he rose to scoop her into his arms and then carried her

  to the bunk. He tossed her down and before his body slid over hers, Angel’s intake of breath turned into a

  sigh.

  Angel arched until the tips of her breasts brushed against the muscled chest lingering above her and

  reveled in the feel of the brush of skin on skin.

  His fingertips painted sensation across her flesh, and she trembled beneath his touch. He had

  mastered the art of the caress. And she gloried under his skilled hands. His very touch cast her over the

  edge of sanity and into an abyss of madness. She wished he would ease the pleasure-ache gripping her.

  Her body coiled. Arched. Eager for release and afraid of it at the same time.

  She murmured his name and gripped his forearms. He spread her thighs and settled between them.

  He ground his hardness against her and her legs embraced him, urging him on.

  The head of his shaft lingered at her portal and she wiggled closer, needing something only he could

  give. He eased into her and she gasped at the fullness.

  At his pause, she panted. “More,” she whispered.

  A pained expression crossed his face. “We have to go slow...it’s your first time.”

  Angel shook her head. “I don’t want it slow.” With her legs entwined around him in a vise and her

  hands gripping his buttocks, he plunged to the hilt inside her.

  The slightest twinge of discomfort tore through her but vanished. She squirmed, seeking something

  she could not name, and Blac groaned. He moved inside her, streaks of fire rushed from her hot center and

  radiated through her body.

  She opened eagerly and the shock of discovery disappeared, giving way to the thrill of sensation.

  He thrust and his hard body brushed against her, accompanied by her frantic plea.

  Both of his hands sought her breasts as he pumped within her and tension coiled in her core. She

  rose off the mattress in a taut arch, her body straining like a bow. Frantically she clawed at his shoulders

  and then his hips. He growled against her mouth before seizing her lips in a shattering kiss.

  Angel crested some unknown precipice as her eyes fluttered closed. Brilliant lights exploded

  behind her lids as he wrung every drop of ecstasy from her flesh. He lifted her hips to change the angle of

  penetration and Angel found herself seeking that unnamed peak once again. Her body clenched and

  contracted, eliciting a roar from his lips. He pounded against her. Trembling and senseless, she could

  only hang on until the convulsions ceased.

  He sank onto her, his back drenched in sweat and lay against her body, unable to draw a deep

  breath. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, engulfing him in the sweetest warmth she could offer. She

  smiled.

  He belonged to her now. Would he realize this?

  She kissed the top of his head and closed her eyes. Contentment washed away the doubts. She

  glanced down at him and chuckled. He brought his eyes to her face. “What is it?”

  Her fingers traced the blackened ink smeared across his cheek. “I believe I marked my territory.”

  He grinned and reached up to her cheek. “It’s all right. I returned the favor.”

  She smiled. “So we’re a matched pair?”

  He kissed her and traced her mouth with his tongue. “Haven’t we always been?”

  Twelve

  Twilight gave a lavender haze to the landscape and the swish of gentle waves against the hull

  provided a serenity to the moment. Angel stretched languidly and found Blac standing before the gallery

  windows. Bare-chested, with his arms crossed, he peered out at the incredible picturesque scene beyond.

  He was so hands
ome.

  Blac faced her and ambled to the bunk. He leaned over with one hand on either side of her hips to

  kiss his way from her chest to her neck. She smiled deliciously and wrapped her arms around his neck,

  dragging him on top of her. How perfectly he fit.

  Angel traced the now dried ink smeared across his cheek and chuckled. He smiled and rubbed their

  matching smudged cheeks together. “Do we look so horrible?” she asked.

  “Does it really matter what anyone else thinks?”

  She grinned. “No.”

  He eased to the side and cupped her face in his palm. “Then I wouldn’t worry my pretty head over

  it.” She leaned into his hand, and warmth spread through her. This feels so right.

  “Did you sleep well, my angel?” His deep tone soothed her.

  She nodded. “Did you?”

  He sighed. “Better than I ever have in my life.” He rose and sat on the edge of the mattress. “But

  we’ve little time to ready for your grandfather. He should be here late this morning.”

  Angel gasped and sat up. “What do you mean?” She scrambled up onto her knees. “You can’t mean

  to send me with him after—”

  Blac swiveled to face her. “After last night? Why not? I told you nothing would change.”

  A quick stab of pain and disbelief shattered her composure. Tears filled her eyes and her lip

  quivered. She clamped her jaw tight to keep from crying in front of him. He still meant to send her away,

  even after everything they’d shared. How could he say nothing had changed, when everything had changed

  for her?

  Blac shoved to his feet, anger mottling his features. “This is the best place for you to be during this,

  Angel. I won’t have to worry about you if you’re with your grandfather. This discussion is over.”

  Stunned, Angel placed a hand over the ache in her heart as he stomped out the door and slammed it

  shut. Seconds passed and she couldn’t move. Then she crumbled to the bed and sobbed. All her visions of

  growing old with Blac vanished, shattered like a million shards of crystal.

  Two hours later, a knock on the door brought her off the bunk.

  “Your grandfather is here, Miss Angel.” Rigo’s voice came from the other side.

  Pain spliced her heart in two. She would be leaving Blac without even saying goodbye.

  Angel dragged herself from the bed and changed into her wrinkled clothes from the day prior.

  Glancing into the mirror, her red-rimmed eyes blinked back at her and she reached up to finger the ink-

  smudged cheek. Briefly, she traced the mark, and memories of the night before assaulted her. Bitterness

  furrowed her brow and wiped the memory from her mind. She refused to cry over him again.

  Combing her fingers through her hair, she headed top-side. The crew scurried across the planks,

  performing their chores, and barely glanced at her. Rigo stood by the gangplank to help her down.

  The sun glinted off the black, lacquered carriage on the dock. The door stood open and revealed the

  blue velvet seats inside, as well as the well-tailored legs of her grandfather, who sat inside the vehicle.

  Blac stood at the bottom of the gangplank with both hands propped on his hips. As handsome as ever. But

  this time she must ignore that. He faced her but she walked right by him with a cursory glance.

  He spoke her name but she refused to acknowledge him.

  “Angel,” he said. “I don’t know if you should go...he hasn’t even given the courtesy of leaving the

  vehicle.”

  “Then you won’t mind when I join him there.”

  It’s a little late for second thoughts now. Even if I wished to stay, you’ve made it clear I’ll never

  have what I truly desire from you. There is no place for me here now.

  She reached the carriage and the footman helped her inside. She leaned back out, catching sight of

  Blac. His brows were drawn together, his jaw set hard, and his mouth tightened into a firm line. His anger

  was a palpable thing. Too little, too late for regrets, Blac.

  She blew him a kiss from the doorway just as she’d done so long ago aboard the Serpent’s Lady.

  His eyes widened before they narrowed. He started forward, but she slammed the door shut, tapping the

  top of the vehicle to let the driver know she was ready.

  They lurched forward and she sat back, her eyes finally resting on her grandfather. Piercing blue

  eyes met her gaze and she frowned. He stared raptly at her, but there was little emotion on his face. A

  long white periwig covered his head and both of his hands settled stiffly atop a gold-handled cane. White,

  billowing sleeves protruded from the coat sleeves and a single, jewel-encrusted ring glinted on his finger.

  A nervous flutter in her stomach alerted her to something being amiss. She attempted a smile to ease

  the tension. “Grandfather.”

  “Angel.” He paused. “You look like your mother.”

  She clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. “So I’ve been told.”

  He frowned at her attire. “Of course, she wore proper dresses and didn’t bandy about, half-dressed

  with ink smudged on her face. You’re a mite filthy, dear girl.” His tone boomed across the coach and

  battered her self-confidence.

  Angel glanced down at her wrinkled breeches and shirt. Raising her chin, she would never change

  who she was. This may have been what her father wished for her, but he didn’t always know what was

  best for the best. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here. Her grandfather would accept her for who she was, or

  he wouldn’t. It was up to him.

  She smiled tightly. “Indeed.”

  The rest of the ride went by in silence, broken only by the rhythm of the clomping hooves on

  cobbled stones. They didn’t arrive at her grandfather’s home until well after dusk had fallen. Midnight

  hues coated the sky in a multitude of different shades. Swirls of sapphire set against the navy backdrop

  and enhanced the brilliant profusion of stars.

  Angel had slept most of the way and yawned as she entered the front door of the house, behind her

  grandfather. The heavily-carved oak door opened to reveal the high-ceilinged majestic entryway. The

  domelike ceiling was painted with murals of cherubs and angels, along with a detailed artwork of the

  planets. Thick, heavily carved molding traced the ceiling edge, and the front round-table was topped with

  an incredible display of lilies. The arrangement was so large, it dominated the area.

  Angel had never seen such luxury before. Her grandfather instructed his staff to care for her, just

  before he turned to her. Those piercing eyes studied her. “This was one of your mother’s favorite rooms.

  She used to lie on the floor to study the paintings on the ceiling. The angels were her favorite.” He

  coughed into his hand and headed for the carved stairwell. “It’s probably why she named you Angel.”

  An ache settled deep in her chest as she imagined her young mother lying on the floor, daydreaming.

  She almost smiled.

  He turned on the bottom stair. “She was a delightful child who grew into a headstrong young lady.

  She betrayed her family and left behind everyone who ever loved her. Your grandmother died from the

  grief of her loss. She never forgave me.” He moved up one more step. “I see that you are much like your

  mother. Perhaps one day you can tell me how she lived so that I may learn to forgive her.”

  The white-haired man climbed the stairs and a mix of confusion and empathy for him assaulted her.

  He’d loved
her mother. She could tell. But having lost both women in his life had soured his disposition.

  The maid ushered her up the stairs to her room. It wasn’t as lavish or beautiful as the rest of the

  house, but it was pretty. Dark-panels lined the bottom half of the walls and the top half was covered by

  blue-flowered paper. Comfortable. Even the white and blue coverlet beckoned her to get cozy.

  She settled on the cobalt settee and leaned back, propping her feet up. She had no baggage, no

  clothes other than the ones she wore, and no money to get more. She sighed. She would be completely

  dependent on her grandfather if she stayed here.

  Melancholy set in, and she wondered how her father was. Was he even still alive? How had she

  failed so miserably? Being here in this house reminded her of her mother. The image of blue-green eyes

  and soft hands came to her again. Her mother would stroke her hair every night till Angel lay soundless,

  asleep. It was the only memory she had left. She’d just turned five when her mother had contracted the

  fever from childbirth and died. Along with the child she had born.

  From that day forward, her father had taken her mother’s place for her. He’d stroked her hair each

  night until she’d fallen asleep. He’d nurtured and cared for her. It was hard to imagine such a large man

  being so gentle. Her own gentle giant, and she missed him dreadfully.

  Angel stood and looked about the room. Refusing to wallow in her misery, she opened the drawer

  of the dresser. Rummaging through it, she found a multitude of old letters, an old, dried-up quill, and a

  letter opener. She shut the drawer and opened the next one, only finding a few old cravats.

  She leaned back against the drawer and closed it. There was trunk at the foot of the bed and an

  armoire. She closed the distance and opened the double doors. Two hands reached out of the hanging

  clothes to wrap around her throat.

  Desperate, she clasped the hands and together they moved backwards until they reached the wall.

  The cloaked figure was taller than her, and his hands squeezed her neck until the air completely closed

  off.

  Who the hell wants me dead?

  She blinked as spots danced before her vision, and she brought a single knee up into the man’s