Saving Angels #5
Annie Rose Welch
The final journey of the Saving Angels series has come to an end. All roads have led you to….
“What’s the address?” she asks.
“Eleven Sparrow Way.”
She closes her eyes for a moment. “I like that. Our journey has flown us here, flown us home….”
Gabriel Roberts found his happily ever after at The Crossroads of his life. He found his brother, Michael, his history in the Legion, and the love of his life, his Evangeline. He has finally arrived at the place he always yearned for—home.
But time stops for no one; not even an angel.
For years Gabriel has guarded what is most precious to him, Evangeline and their transcendent love story. When the opportunity presents itself in an unexpected way, Gabriel decides to tell his story, and in doing so, answers the riddle of his heart: If life is the journey of years, perhaps love is the journey of a lifetime?
The concierge had arranged for us two cruising bikes so that we could explore the area and voyage to the famous restaurant that we had heard so much about.
Eva hops on the purple one, sticking me with the pink one that has a wicker basket attached to the front.
“That’s for the fly comment.” She snickers.
“Real men work pink,” I say. “Or so Brad says. He told me my coloring is perfect for pink.”
We cruise into the misty day, the sun barely shining through the many Monterey cypress trees that line the hilly area. Eva steadies her bike and releases the handle- bars. She spreads her arms wide like a bird spreading its wings.
As we peddle, I hear music in the distance floating from one of the houses on the opposite side of the street. I listen harder, trying to place the beat.
“Do you hear that?” I bounce a bit from the turbulence of the tires.
Eva grabs the handlebars. “I would never leave you alone...something, something, something.”
“Hell yeah!” I beat the handlebars with my thumbs to the heavy pace of the drums. “Eva, ‘I’ll be’...” I sing some of the song. “I love The Karate Kid! This place reminds me of the movie.”
“That’s about the only movie you do like.”
“It’s a classic, like Rocky. And if we weren’t riding these bicycles, I’d show you my karate moves! Hi-ya!” I chop the air. “What are you laughing about? You just don’t know the moves your husband has!”
“Hold on, Gabriel-san! Banzai!” Eva shouts, before we go flying down a steep street.
“I love it here. I feel like I can breathe better! The air seems lighter.”
“Don’t get used to it. “We’re not taking up permanent residency in the big shake.” I take the camera from the basket as the bole straightens out. I slow down a bit, getting a prime shot of her butt bouncing up and down on the seat. “The scenery is quite beautiful, though.”
She looks behind for a second. “Race you!” She starts going faster and I have to take the camera and throw it in the basket to peddle harder.
My eyes savor every inch of her bare flesh. The gentle sway of her body, the way her waist melts into her rolling, swinging hips. Her body is soft, but firm. Her eyes are full of longing and bright fire. Her stare melts me, like a slow burn. My will drips, drips, drips as she moves into me.
“I can’t get you close enough, fast enough,” I breathe. I want to drink her, absorb her, until every pore in my body is overflowing with her. Her tongue tastes like warm, sweet honey. I can never have enough of her this way. Of this I am infinitely positive.
Her head tilts backward. Her lips curl in an upward smile of pleasure. Her hair falls around her back, uncovering her breasts. The sweet smell from her bare skin enraptures me. Her hands rush through my hair. She traces the lines of my face; her fingertips seem to float across my skin. “Memorizing you,” she breathes out as her hands make their way to my body, undressing me.
I move into her, trembling, dripping with heat. My fingers pulsate and pull against her soft skin and her knees buckle.
“When you touch me, you feel like thunder pounding against my skin,” she whispers.
I’m careful now—the want needs to grow until it can no longer be controlled. Like a beast being released after years of being caged.
The tension builds, causing my soul to stir.
★★★★ABOUT THE AUTHOR ★★★★
Born and raised in New Orleans, Annie has a habit of shortening her words and telling long stories. She speaks with a southern flair and cooks with it too. At the tender age of twenty- one, she hitched up her wagons (took her first plane ride) and moved out west to the big shake (California).
Her writing career began one sleepless night when she imagined a gorgeous woman and a man with maniacal hair floating above her like lightening bugs falling from the sky. Curious about them, their story, and why they were floating around in her head, she sat down and penned (typed) her first novel, Marigny Street. A dream come true for her, she hasn't stopped writing since. She loves a damn good love story, always has, no matter what the genre. She is particularly moved by imperfect love that in its own unique way is perfect, the notion of love at first sight, soul mates, and things that are generally out of the norm.
When she's not writing she enjoys dabbling in photography and finding new, inspirational music to add to her collection. Deciding on a whim to hitch up those same wagons, Annie currently resides in Texas (where everything is bigger) with her husband, daughter, and their two peculiar dogs, Boudreaux and Tabasco (who, call her crazy, bark with an accent).
For lagniappe (a little extra), a virtual cup of café au lait and beignets, please visit Annie's website:
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