He carried the wine bottle back to her, where she sat on the table. “You’re empty.”

She didn’t want any more wine, but she was happy to have him closer. The red dress had slid up her legs, leaving her thighs exposed. He noticed. She didn’t cover herself.

He rubbed the bottle along the inside of her knee. The glass was cool and smooth against her skin. She shivered.

Duke moved the bottle away, plucked the glass from her hand, and placed both on the island. Before she could move, he was back, his palm replacing the smooth glass on her thigh. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Maybe a little,” she said, her hand over his. Just friends, with benefits, right? She moved his hand higher.

“Do you think I could make it up to you?” His fingertips brushed against her flesh.

“You can try…”

His lips mashed down on hers, which instantly opened for him. Her tongue leapt forward, her body arching into him. His hands were in her hair, pulling her to him, kissing her hard. Angel matched him, striving to be even closer. He tore his lips away and she groaned, and then groaned again when he thumbed down the satin material crisscrossing her breasts. He took first one nipple in his mouth, and then the other, flicking her with his tongue. She forgot who she was and how they came to be here, her mind focused down to only sensation and movement.

She slid off his shirt, his chest rock hard under her palms, her lips. In return, he gently brushed a finger back and forth across her panties. Back and forth—it was unbearable. She almost screamed. Then, with one swift move, he tugged off her underwear and pushed himself against her, the material of his slacks rough against her. She was delirious, unable to form coherent thought. It had been so long. She clawed at the closures of his pants while he unzipped her dress.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his green eyes piercing hers.

“Yes, yes!” she said, and he slid the dress up over her head. She was naked before him, lying on his table. “Yes,” she moaned, and he was inside her.

Chapter Sixteen

Angel woke up to an odd sound. Silence.

Why is it so quiet? No traffic, no train, no sirens. She opened her eyes. The room was pitch-black. Where am I?

“Mmm-hm,” came a muffled sleep-hum from next to her. She froze. Duke. It was Duke. Sound asleep in a large, comfortable bed, in a tangle of soft sheets and a goose down quilt. Naked. With her. Dios mío. The things he had done to her. The things she had done to him …

A pounding headache made thinking difficult.