Hearts the Last Beat (Angel Fire #6) - Ellie Masters Page 0,3

shoulder and slowly twines the strand around her finger.

Her lashes flutter as she boldly takes me in. Her gaze is determined, taking me in from head to foot, down my broad chest, hard abs, and to my groin, where her attention lingers without shame. She peeks back up at me, biting her lower lip as her green gaze heats.

“W-why is that?” I clear my throat, embarrassed by the way my voice catches.

“Because, we’re finally alone.” She approaches and places the pad of her finger in the middle of my chest. “Because we can finally be alone.”

It’s the first time we touch, and an electric jolt shoots through my body. The air crackles between us as that energy surges along my nerves, firing up all my senses.

Slowly, she drags her finger downward. The entire time, she holds my gaze. Heat shoots through me, licks along my nerves, and burrows deep.

All that electricity arrows south, encouraging blood to rush and fill my cock. Her gaze pulls apart from mine and dips back down where there’s no way to hide what she’ll find. Her finger stops at the waistband of my shorts, where it twists in a lazy circle.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Her head snaps up, and our gazes once again lock together.

“Feel what?”

She nibbles at her lower lip, sucking it indecently into her mouth. I swear she was born to be a seductress, and damn if I don’t spin in her web.

“Us.”

It’s one word. One tiny word and it rocks my world.

Her finger stops drawing on my belly and moves down on a determined path. Before she reaches the tip of my cock, I grab her wrist. It’s the first time I’ve touched her, and I’m not prepared for the flood of sensation washing over me.

This is such a bad idea.

Two

Angel

There’s only one word to describe Spike.

Dangerous.

Wanted by millions, he’s sex on a stick with that bad boy vibe nailed down to a T, and boy, do I want him to nail me.

He’s been an obsession of mine forever. His sculpted face, those mysterious piercings, the tattoos covering his arms, he’s deadly gorgeous and has been charming women into his bed probably from the day his voice started to deepen, and the very first hair grew on his chin, or—down there.

My gaze slips to his shorts and lingers. It’s more than simple charisma, more than his powerfully honed body; his sex appeal comes from his eyes. The way one look can devastate as it cuts deep, laying me bare before him.

When I think of sex, I think of Spike. He’s potent, virile, masculinity wrapped in a devastatingly handsome package.

There’s only one problem. He won’t pay attention to me. Any time I think there might be something between us, he shoves me aside.

But I don’t do that now.

He came down here, looking for me.

He’s either going to admit his attraction is real, and not all in my head, or he needs to put me out of my misery. I can’t keep living like this.

“Don’t.” His deep growl threatens.

I can’t help but pull back. Only he doesn’t release me. If anything, Spike’s grip tightens as he drags in an unsteady breath. I watch with avid fascination as he struggles to pull himself together and regain control.

Now, why would he need to do that?

What a heady sensation seeing all that heat and virility calmed by the force of his will. That’s how I see him. It’s how I’ve always seen him. From the very first day he stood by my dad’s side, hearing the news my mother hoped she’d never have to share, Spike captivated me.

He still captivates me.

He’s older, but I’ve always been attracted to older men. First, the teachers at my school drew my eye, then my coaches, and finally, men on TV. I never watched the tweeny shows growing up with pubescent boys pretending to be men.

When I was twelve, I lusted over the stars who were in their twenties, not their teens. As a teenager, my preferences continued toward men in their prime, fully developed, virile, confident men, not uncertain boys navigating the pitfalls of becoming men.

My attraction to Spike isn’t because he’s older, more mature, and more experienced than me. It’s in his bad-boy vibe, searing gaze, and no-fucks-given attitude. It’s in the way he prowls instead of walks.

A whole-body shudder overtakes me. Sexy and good looking, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. All hard angles and even harder muscles, he’s bigger than me, stronger than me, incredibly,