Crave (Fallen Angels 2)

And he was going to buy two as soon as he got off on his floor. One for himself and one for . . . "What did you say your name was?"

The redhead next him was exactly his type: totally stacked, partially wasted, and under no illusions that this was going to be anything but sex.

"Rachel." She smiled, showing teeth that were sparkly and superwhite. "And I think I'll keep my last name to myself."

Man, those chompers of hers were incredible--as lined up and shiny as bathroom tile. Then again she was a dental hygienist, so she probably got a discount.

Hell, with her looks, she could be a model for their product lines.

There was a ding and the door slid back, revealing the red-and-white vending machine of his dreams. As he stepped aside and let lovely, sparkly Rachel-with-no-last-name pass, he was well aware that he was using her, but that was a two-way street: Their conversation at the bar next to the hotel had started up over the fact that she was wrenching her wedding band off.

Apparently, her husband was f**king a friend of hers.

And it had taken Adrian 'bout a minute and a half to come up with the perfect payback.

He'd bought her a couple of drinks and then one more, and he knew he had her when she asked if he was staying in the hotel. He told her yes, he was . . . with his best friend. Who was a lot better-looking than he was.

Right, total lies-ville on that one. But he liked to share with Eddie if the women were up for it. Given the state of his buddy's game, the f**ker would never get laid if Ad didn't bring 'em home.

"Hold up," he said as he stopped at his machine, got his wallet out, and peeled free a couple of bills.

"You know," his date said, "I've never been with anybody like you."

Yeah, he was damn sure of that one. "Really?" As he smiled at her over his shoulder, she focused on the loop in his lower lip--and to oblige, he deliberately licked over the dark gray metal. "I ain't so bad, am I?"

Her eyes were hungry. "Not at all. Hey, do you have a girlfriend? I never asked."

Adrian turned back to the machine and fed the money in, listening to the little whirrrrrr as the George Washing-tons were sucked into the thing's gullet.

"No," he said, pushing the pad for a regular. "I'm not with anyone."

Actually he had been . . . all too recently. Which was why, even though he always liked his sex, he'd been so hell-bent on picking the chick up last night and hitting on Rachel tonight.

Washing off after Devina had used him was always a process. Sure, right after she released him, the hot water and soap got rid of his blood and the other stuff that coated his skin . . . but the filthy dirty thing always persisted.

This lovely little morsel of humanity, however, was going to help replace the sensations that lingered in his body.

The ones that had nothing to do with the fading bruises on his skin.

The shit with Devina stayed with him, lingering in the back of his mind, festering. To the point where there were now two of him: the one who bantered with Jim and stayed alert and was ready to fight for Isaac Rothe's soul . . . and the one who was curled up in the recesses of his mental park, shaking and numb and all alone.

"Diet?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

This time, his hand shook as he fed the machine's mouth. To the point where it took him a couple of tries to get the bill in. "Hey, could you do something for me?"

"Sure."

"Wrap your arms around me."

There was a soft laugh and then he felt a gentle compression around his waist as Rachel No-Last-Name did what he'd asked. As she leaned into the back of him, her soft br**sts pressed against his hard muscle and the warmth of her body was one hell of a contrast to what was doing inside of him.

He was so damn cold. Cold as the Coke he was buying.

Adrian let his head drop and braced one hand against the machine, holding them both upright.

Devina was going to kill him. If not when she was actually f**king him, then because of the aftermath: His brain wasn't working right anymore, and as the days went by and it didn't return normal, he was starting to worry. He didn't think Jim knew; he worried that Eddie did--and here was the problem: He had no intention of getting benched by the powers that be again. He was a fighter and he had a personal vendetta against Devina . . . and that meant he had to pull it together.

"You know," Rachel murmured against his shoulder, "if you wanted to feel my br**sts, there's a better way."

He swallowed hard and put his mask back in place. Turning around in her arms, he swept her red hair off her neck and tilted her chin up. "You're so right."

He was utterly empty as he kissed her, but she didn't know that, and he was so desperate to make a connection that he didn't care.

"Adrian. . . ." As she drew out his name, he guessed she liked the way the metal bar through his tongue felt against her own.

Running his hands down her hips to her ass, he pulled her in tight to his body and tried to break through his arctic circle with her curves and the way she moved against him and the smell of her perfume and the taste of the cranberry and vodkas she'd been drinking.

Keeping to the rhythm, he punched the "diet" button and the machine coughed up another bottle.

"Come on," he growled, grabbing her soda. "Let me introduce you to Eddie. Like I told you, you're going to love him. Everyone loves him."

He gave her a wink in an attempt to flirt, and going by the way she giggled, it was clear she bought the charm . . . and was really open to what she was walking into.

"You know, I've never done this before," she said, as he led her down the corridor. "Well, with . . . you know."

"Two people?" She giggled again and he smiled down at her. "That's okay--we'll treat you very, very well."

This was going to work, he told himself as he got out his plastic key to the door. This had to work. Last night just hadn't been enough, but after this, his slate was going to be clean and his head was going to be back in the game and he was going to get to take his pound of flesh out of Devina.

When they came up to his room, Adrian stopped, slipped the card in the slot, and opened the way just a crack. "We've got some company. You decent? "

Eddie's reply was quick and annoyed. "Of course I am."

Adrian pushed in with that manufactured smile nailed on the front door of his face. "Where are you, buddy?"

As his roommate came out from the loo, Eddie's hard look changed the instant he saw the female.

Nooooooot so annoyed anymore. But Adrian knew the guy had a thing for redheads--which was why the lovely Rachel had been a slam dunk.

While Eddie stepped up to introduce himself, Ad went over and put his head through the open connector into Jim's room. The angel was sitting in front of the laptop he'd bought earlier in the day. On one side of him, there was an open box of half-eaten pizza, and on the other, a Marlboro quietly smoldered in an ashtray. In his lap, Dog was a scruffy pile of gray-and-blond-colored fur--to the point where you couldn't tell what end was tail and what was muzzle.

Going by Jim's frown, it was pretty clear what he was doing on the compy: He was searching for info on that girl Devina had murdered, desecrated, and hung upside down in that tub back in Caldwell--the virgin girl who had been sacrificed to protect the demon's turf. The one Jim had tried to save . . . and been too late for.

"Jim."

At the sound of his name, the guy who was responsible for saving the world looked up. His eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep and he was looking hollowed out--so yeah, he was pretty much what you'd expect, given how much was on his shoulders. And yet he was clearly up to the task. That spell the guy had pulled out of his ass at the brick house? Unbelievable. First try out of the gate and he did it on a oner. Eddie or Ad? Would have had to go all around the place marking the entrances to ensure proper coverage.

Kind of made you wonder what else the bastard could do.

"What's up, Ad?" the guy said as he picked up his cig and took a draw. The exhale was slow and tired.

Adrian thumbed over his shoulder. "We're gonna be busy for a little bit."

"Are you, now."

As if on cue, Rachel let out one of her giggles and right on the heels of it came a low purring growl. Which usually meant Eddie was going in for something. A kiss. A palm up. A sucking . . .

Jim's stare narrowed. "Are you okay?"

Adrian stepped back and started to shut the door. He didn't want Jim involved in his drama. It was one thing to be undone before Eddie--who he'd lived through hell with. Literally.