Behind Closed Doors
Ardeth & Angelina Series #2
Disclaimer:
The character of Ardeth Bay belongs to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. All other characters owned by the author.
Author Notes:
This story is based on the character Ardeth Bay, played by Oded Fehr, from the movies
The Mummy
and
The Mummy Returns
. Feedback welcomed.
~*~*~
He didn't make a sound, nor did he give any other warning of his presence. All the same, the small hairs prickled on the back of her neck, and Angelina
knew.
She could feel his presence as clearly as if he'd touched her. He was behind her.
Slowly Angelina turned around until she came face to face with him, gripping the heavy volume of medical knowledge with both hands and hugging it close to her chest. She had left the window open to let in the cool evening air after the heat of the day, and he stood in front of it, the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Her heart leapt as if it would jump right out of her chest before it settled to beat twice as fast as normally. It had been three weeks to the day since she had last seen him. Three weeks, during which she had remembered and wondered, hoped and desired. And now there he was, and she wondered if he would love her again as he had that night. She had been able to think of little else, had dreamt of him in her comfortable bed, waking more than once in the middle of the night aroused and frustrated.
Crossing the room to stand in front of her, Ardeth Bay took the book from her nerveless fingers and put it back on the table. He had not been able to get her out of his head, she was like fire under his skin, and the need to see her had driven him to her house at the earliest opportunity, to climb over the garden wall and through the window. He had only intended to talk to her, to watch and listen to her, to get to know her a little better; telling himself that he could wait for the rest. Who was he kidding, listening to and watching her had not been enough since the day she had noticed him,
truly
noticed him - not the warrior or the leader, but as a man. And he had a feeling it would never again be enough. And so at the moment her widened eyes landed on him and told him that her feelings were the same, all his noble intentions flew right out the window and Ardeth was left with swift arousal and an irresistible urge to hold her, to love her.
Slowly his hands traveled up her arms, warm and sure, to cup her face. His warm lips, wonderfully soft and firm at the same time, moved against her own in a maddeningly feather light touch, his goatee scraping softly against her skin, making her whimper with frustration. She wanted him to kiss her, to
really
kiss her like he had that night she had spent in his arms, with the fire and passion that had haunted her dreams, and her fingers delved into and tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. At long last, when she began to despair he'd never deepen the kiss, his hands moved to the back of her head, tilting her head for better access to her mouth. And then he took her mouth in a long, deep, mind-drugging kiss that went on and on, and had her standing on tiptoe to press even tighter against him.
The kiss stripped away all pretense and left them clinging together in open passion, hungry for each other, straining to get even closer. He dug his fingers in her hair and tilted her head back, his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue plundering her mouth in the rhythm of making love. Her tongue curled around his in a heated welcome and she sucked at his tongue daintily, holding him within her mouth. Her taste was sweet and hot, flavored with the strong coffee she had drunk earlier at supper.
Angelina's entire body jolted when his other hand covered her breast, cupping her warmly in his palm through the blouse, flicking his callused thumb over her hardened nipple, simultaneously soothing the ache and creating a deeper one. Her hands restlessly fluttered over him, up and down his back and sides, feeling the muscles bunch and release under her palms through the layers of clothing he was wearing. She couldn't get enough of him.
Blood thundered through his veins, hot and heavy like molten lava, and he pulled her tighter, sliding his arms around her and holding her welded to his body. A low growl sounded deep in his throat, and he drove her backward, forcing her against the paneled wall, pressing against her. He could feel the round firmness of her breasts against his chest, and he knew she could feel the swollen ridge of his erection against the softness of her belly. He felt her shudder, felt the convulsive movement of her hips, blindly seeking, arching into him. She was live fire in his arms, responding wildly to him, and he felt his control slipping. He wanted her, wanted everything - all of her. He wanted to drink her in, fuse them together so they could never be parted. He cupped her buttocks and lifted her, drawing her hips inwards so that his erection was nestled in the soft juncture of her thighs. She rubbed back and forth against him, and her response inflamed his senses and seared his soul and he groaned aloud at the exquisite torture as she moved wildly against him, her mouth passionate and demanding against his.
A door slammed somewhere in the house, the sound loud enough to startle him to break the kiss and he lifted his head at the sound of receding footsteps. Dimly through the lust fogging his mind, he realized that he was on the edge of taking her here, against the wall in the parlor where her housekeeper could walk in on them at any moment. He looked in her passion-glazed eyes, her chest rising and falling heavily and her breath every bit as rugged as his. They had to take this into somewhere private, or stop. His fingers flexed against the soft, resilient flesh of her buttocks and his body near revolted at the thought of letting her go, but somehow he managed it - at least half of it: he slowly lowered her to stand on her own legs, no longer pressed up tight against him. But he couldn't bring himself to take his hands off of her entirely, and instead he closed them on her waist, a hairsbreadth between their bodies. Her gaze was hot and direct as she slowly untangled her fingers from his hair and slid them to rest on his shoulders. He could read what she wanted in her eyes but he needed to hear her say it, he needed to be sure, and wanted her to be sure, that this was what she wanted. Desire clamored through him, hard and overpowering, and he had to swallow twice, hard, before he could finally force his voice to co-operate.
"What do you want? Be certain. Your life, your reputation..." Was the raw need to have her as plain to her as it was to him, he wondered as he waited what she would say, praying that she would want him. The taste of her, the scent and feel of her had haunted his memory these weeks he had been away from her, to the point that he had begun to doubt it all had been only a dream, a figment of his imagination; that making love to her could not possibly have been as sweet as he remembered, her response as intoxicating and generous as he thought.
Ardeth's voice sent shivers down her spine; it was low - like velvet. The raw need she heard in it found an answering pulse deep inside her and her stomach muscles clenched nearly painfully. Eyes darkened nearly to black and hot with desire he waited for her answer, the barely controlled tension emanating from his body rolling in waves over her, heightening her own arousal. She knew what he was doing. So noble and honorable even if it killed him, he was giving her a chance to change her mind, to back off. But
he