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October 14 , 2007

Bishop's Angel



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Talk Dirty to Me

“No!” Angel cried out, struggling wildly against him. But she was no match for his superior strength and the honed muscles she felt beneath her hands. In no time his hands had wrapped around her wrists, and she was pinned against the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his face too close to hers.

“Who the hell are you?” Angel demanded right back, twisting beneath him. It was then she felt cool air in places that she shouldn’t, reminding her that all she had on was a thin night-shirt and a pair of bikini panties. Judging by the super hard pecks she felt pressed against her breasts, her shirt had come undone, too. An insane thought crossed her mind, why he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She wiggled wildly, unintentionally scraping her nipples across his flesh.

“Stop before you get hurt!” he growled. In an effort to subdue her he pressed his body against hers.

“Then get off me!” Angel hissed, arching her body in an effort to throw him off her. His muscled thighs and powerful legs flexed against hers, easily holding hers still.

“Not until you tell me who you are,” he grated in a rough voice.

His warm breath slapped her in the face. “I live here,” Angel said without hesitation, glaring up into his shadowed face. She was aware there was no way he could see her because it was too dark.

“The hell you do.”

How did he know that? “The police are on their way so I suggest you let me up and get out of here.” Her energy was beginning to wane. He was too strong and big, and the longer they remained like that, the more she began to feel uncomfortable with their intimate proximity.

“Good. Then we can get to the bottom of this.”

That wasn’t the kind of response an intruder would make if he were caught in someone else’s house. Maybe he was delusional or something. Angel decided to switch tactics. “These stairs are hurting me,” she said weakly.

Things grew still between them and she sensed his silent contemplation, as if he were wondering if he should believe her. She whimpered a little for good measure.

“Okay, I’m going to let you up, but don’t try anything stupid,” he warned.

The second he released her and lifted off her body, Angel got to her feet and dashed the rest of the way up the stairs.

“Son of a bitch!” he cursed behind her.

Angel slammed and locked her bedroom door in his face. She didn’t know what she hoped to accomplish, except to get away from him until the police arrived. What was taking them so long? She ran to one of the windows and opened it. Maybe she could push out a screen and—

Without warning her bedroom door was kicked in. She screamed and made a beeline for her connecting bathroom.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

A muscular arm wrapped around Angel’s waist and she was lifted off her feet. “Let me go!” She wiggled and kicked, very much aware that her butt was against a very intimate part of his body. Burning heat replaced the fear flowing through her blood because his cock wasn’t as flaccid as it should have been.

“Look,” he slammed her down onto the bed and for the second time she found herself pinned beneath his superior strength. “Before this goes any further I think we need to talk.”

“You can talk to the police,” she panted, twisting beneath him.

“I intend to,” he said without hesitation. There was a confidence in his tone that surprised her.

Without warning he reached up and turned on the reading light at the head of the bed. How did he know that was there? Meeting eyes the color of blue topaz, everything in Angel froze, including her breath. Oh God, I know those eyes! She didn’t know the man personally, but she knew of him from the pictures on the fireplace mantle downstairs. He was Diana’s older brother, and Navy SEAL Bishop Strong. Suddenly everything made perfect sense.

After six years, he’d finally come home!

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