Angela moaned, blinking her eyes open to stare at the stucco ceiling, a stab of pain piercing her temples. She yawned and stretched, noticing something warm and heavy lying across her torso. Her brows drew together in confusion, looking down to see a tanned, tattooed, and very well-muscled arm just under her bare breasts.

"What the hell...?" She blinked again, uncomprehending, turning to see the body attached to that arm, staring into the sleeping face of a stranger. She just couldn't seem to make her brain grasp what she was seeing. As she gaped at the man, his lids fluttered open, revealing gorgeous hazel eyes. He gazed at her blankly for a long moment before closing his eyes again, as if trying to clear his vision. He opened them again, apparently not pleased that she was still there.

"Who the hell are you?" they both asked simultaneously, springing apart as if burned.

"Who the fuck are you and how'd you get into my hotel room?" the man asked, glaring at her angrily, his dark brows drawn together in a scowl, oblivious to his nakedness as he stood, hands on hips, legs astride, his whole demeanor belligerent.

Angela sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her own nudity, her expression equally irate. "I don't know how the hell I got into your hotel room," she growled, pushing her auburn hair back over her shoulders impatiently. "I've never seen you before in my life!"

He snorted in disbelief, jerking his head toward the door. "Well, you can get your cute little ass out of here. I don't have time for some ringrat-"

"Ringrat?" she exclaimed furiously, forgetting the sheet and bounding up onto her knees, poking a finger into his chest. "You'd better watch how you speak to me, you pumped up jerk! I'm no tramp off the street for you to-"

"Then what are you doing naked in my bed?" he cut in acidly, raking his gaze down over her curves, raising a brow slowly. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. You're not bad-looking, though I can't seem to remember if you're a good lay or not."

Angela was incensed by his insulting attitude. Her hand came up and she struck him across the face with all her strength, nearly falling over at the momentum. He stumbled back a few steps with the force of the blow, grunting in surprise. "You bastard!" she hissed, shaking her tingling hand, climbing off the bed to search for her clothes. She winced at the soreness between her thighs and realized, with horror that she must have actually had sex with this dork. She found her panties and slipped them on, wanting to dress and flee as quickly as possible, mortified at herself. She'd never fallen into bed indiscriminately before, and she was dismayed that she'd obviously done so with a man that she wouldn't have even looked twice at if she were in her right mind. That was it! She'd been drinking an inordinate amount of alcohol last night. He must have picked her up and she was too drunk to object.

She found her blouse twisted up in the bedclothes and she put it on, glancing over to where her would-be lover stood. He was still and quiet, holding a piece of paper in his hand, a look of frank amazement and dread on his face. Before she could stop herself, she asked, "What is it? What's the matter with you?"

He looked up at her, his expression becoming stony, his hand crumpling the paper into a tight ball. "Nothing. It's nothing you should concern yourself about."

She felt a frisson of unease shiver down her spine, knowing instinctively that whatever that piece of paper was did, indeed, concern her. "What is that?" she questioned warily, nodding to his hand.

He turned his back, tossing the ball into the trash. "Like I said, it's nothing. Now, if you'd just please leave?"

Before he knew what she was about to do, she darted to the trash and plucked the ball of paper from it, putting distance between them. She smoothed it out, staring at it without understanding for a long minute, then gasped in shock.

"Please, tell me this isn't true?" she whimpered in alarm.

There was an exasperated sigh from across the room, then, an instant later, he snatched the document from her and tossed it on the bed in disgust. "Much as I'd like to, I can't."

"You mean to tell me that we're...married?!" she breathed, not able to even inhale fully.

He raked his fingers through his dark hair, pacing the room, still unaware of his nakedness. "That's what that thing says." He whirled on her suddenly, his face hard with determination. "We'll get it annulled. We'll just go right down-"

Angela shook her head slowly. "Can't do that. Er...we've already consummated the union."

"They don't have to know that," he argued, yanking on a pair of well-worn jeans. "We'll just tell them that it was a mistake and we didn't mean-"

"It wouldn't be legal."

He glared at her impatiently. "Then, we'll get a divorce. You don't want this any more than I do. It shouldn't be all that much trouble if it's mutual."

She sighed, dropping to the edge of the bed. "A divorce isn't that easy, even if both parties are agreeable."

"And how the fuck do you know?"

She gave him a disapproving look at his language. "I happen to be a legal secretary for a divorce lawyer."

"Well, how long would it take?"

"It could take up to a month or two."

"Two months?" he shouted. "I can't wait two months! What the hell was I thinking? Getting married! Something must have been in that drink."

Angela stiffened, giving him a suspicious glower. "You're not suggesting that I drugged you to marry you, are you? Because if you are, let me tell you-"

"Oh, smooth your feathers," he gritted, glancing at the clock and growling a curse as he pulled a T-shirt from a suitcase by the chair and donning it. "I've got a frickin' plane to catch in half an hour, and I have to deal with this mess."

"You can't go anywhere," Angela squeaked, jumping to her feet. "I can't be married to you. I have a boyfriend that'll kill me if he finds out."

He threw her a sarcastic smile as he slipped on his watch. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you got yourself drunk enough to sleep with the first guy you came across."

She gasped in outrage, wishing she could scratch his bloody eyes out. "You...you..."

He chuckled dryly at her inability to form a complete sentence, waggling a patronizing finger at her. "Now, now...no need to start the name-calling. You might as well get used to the idea that we're stuck together until we can sort this shit out. You're boyfriend will surely understand if you explain that you were drunk and horny and-"

That was it! She launched herself at the hateful bastard and pummeled his back, wanting to inflict as much damage as possible. But, damn him, he was as quick as a cat, turning to catch her wrists and pin them behind her, her body forced along the hard length of his. His expression suddenly changed as he looked down at her, a slow heat growing in his eyes. She recognized that look and struggled frantically to escape.

"Don't you even think about it," she warned, gritting her teeth in frustration at being unable to free herself. "Let me go."

He tilted his head, his grin becoming nearly predatory as he switched both her wrists into one hand, sliding his free one up her ribs. "You know, since we're already married, and we seem to have already made it official, I don't see why I shouldn't prevail upon my husbandly rights while I still have a chance."

"No, dammit!" she yelled, attempting to bring her knee up between his legs. But he was again too quick for her, blocking her movement, lifting her high and tumbling her onto the rumpled bed, landing atop her, his mouth already blazing a hot, wet trail down her throat.

"Look...Scott...please, don't," she pleaded shamelessly. "You'll only make a difficult situation even worse."

He raised his head briefly to quirk a brow at her. "I don't see how. We're already married and 'consummated the union', as you put it. I can't see how one more little fuck will make things worse. After all, we can't seem to remember the first time, and I think this will duly compensate me for all the trouble you put me through."

She glared at him. "All the trouble I put you through?" she hissed furiously. "Get off me you ape. All this may not be too much of a big deal to you, but I happen to have a boyfriend and I'm not going to compound my situation by letting you take advantage of it."

"Oh, come on, Mrs. Levy," he coaxed, lowering his head again to nibble at her skin. "I won't tell him if you don't. And, must I remind you, that a husband's needs supercede those of his wife's boyfriend."

She made a sound of annoyance. "Don't call me that. I won't be your wife for long. OK. Why don't we just go lie to the judge and say we didn't consummate the marriage and just get this thing annulled."

Scott looked down at her, a wicked grin on his lips, shaking his head in mock-regret. "Oh, but we can't lie to the judge like that! That would be perjury, and we could end up in jail. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Damn you!" she snarled. "What happened to 'I don't want this any more than you do?'"

He seemed to ponder this for a long moment, then shrugged. "I've had time to think of the benefits and advantages."

"Bene-Scott, you get your ass off me this minute!" She abruptly changed tactics. "You remember, you have a flight in a little while."

He scowled at the reminder, reluctantly releasing her and rising to his feet. "This isn't over, Angel," he said, thrusting his things into his suitcase and slamming it shut. "I mean to get my compensation. After all, every couple should at least remember their wedding night. Since we can't, we have to make up for it."

She swiftly dressed, searching for her shoes. "I'm warning you right now that I'm not going to sleep with you again, Scott Levy. We're going to terminate this marriage and go our separate ways and try to forget this fiasco ever happened."

"Are we?" he inquired. She spun around, not at all liking the mildly amused tone in his voice. She saw him pick up the marriage license, folding it carefully and tucking it into his pocket. He patted it, smiling at her most disconcertingly. "I think I'll hold on to this for safe-keeping."

She spluttered with impotent rage, throwing her shoe at him, which he deftly dodged, catching it and tossing it back to her, flashing her a mock-reproving look. "Now, now, let's not start with the domestic violence on the first day of our wedded bliss." He gave her an innocently surprised look when she cursed him most foully. "Oh, and you might as well give me your address and phone number so I'll know where to reach you."

She huffed a few moments longer, sighing with resignation as she found her purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to him. She took the scrap of paper he scribbled his cell phone number on and shoved it into her purse.

"I move around a lot, since I'm a pro wrestler, so you can always reach me on the cell."

Angela's green eyes widened in astonishment. "A...a what? A pro wrestler? Is that a real job?"

He gave her a look that stifled her laughter. "I'll have you know that I'm the best wrestler in ECW right now and half of the world tag team champions."

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Oh, well, excuuuuuuse me, Mr. Champion. And is your teammate as modest as you are?"

He frowned at her mocking tone. "I don't know what you've got against wrestling, but maybe you should watch ECW sometime before you criticize the business."

"Oh, sure," she smirked, slipping her pumps on and slinging her purse over her shoulder. "I'll make it my priority. Top of my list of things to do. Watch my husband roll around with other men and play at being an athlete. Yes. I'll certainly do that."

Scott's eyes narrowed angrily at her derisive laughter, watching her as she sauntered to the door, opening it, glancing back over her shoulder. "Have a nice trip, Ring Boy."

Before he could retort, she was gone, letting the door bang shut between them.

She had just gotten home from work, kicking off her shoes and pouring herself a glass of wine, sinking into the plush sofa cushions with a sigh of relief, glad it was Friday and she'd have the weekend to relax. She picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels perfunctorily, not really seeing the screen...until she came upon TNN and heard 'Welcome to ECW...' Her attention was caught, remembering that Scott was part of that federation. She decided to watch a few minutes just to see what it was all about. There was a match between a Rhino and Sandman that was fairly exciting. Sandman amused her with his beer-drinking and egging of the audience. Next was a match between a Japanese and a Mexican fellow that she didn't quite catch their names. This one was very good with aerial moves and technical skill. The show cut to a commercial and she sipped her wine, leaning back and crossing her legs, wondering what the big deal was about. Sure, there was a moderate appeal, but it wasn't like, say, football or anything.

The show returned with the camera focused on a silhouette in a doorway. Then a voice that had her tensing up and inclining forward to get a better look at the TV screen. There was no doubt who's voice that was.

Scott Levy stepped into the light, the camera zooming in on his face as he spoke. She hadn't realized what a drop-dead gorgeous man he was. Or maybe it was the make-up and lighting that was making him appear so. His eyes seemed to burn through the glass and into her soul. She focused on what he was saying.

"...Dreamer, I did the right thing. You know I did. I'll continue to do the right thing until my debt is done." She listened to his voice, letting it flow over her like warm caramel, thick and sweet. "I'm not forgetting what you've done, Tommy, but I'll abide by the rules for the time being. Just realize that when the time comes, you will pay.in blood. Quote the Raven...nevermore."

She listened to the commentators speculate on what Scott meant, which was when she discovered that his character's name was Raven. Cute, she thought snidely, taking another sip of the Cabernet. She saw a replay of a previous match between Raven and Dreamer and a team called the Impact Players, Justin Credible and Lance Storm. Raven basically stood on the apron of the ring, watching the in-ring action, still and bored-looking. Toward the end of the match, Justin introduced a kendo stick, hitting Dreamer with it, which brought Raven in to help his partner, only to get knocked around for his trouble. She had to admit that he did look very hot in his ring outfit-tight leather pants that showed off his obvious assets-and a sleeveless T-shirt with some comic book character on it. At one point he was thrown into the ropes where he was tangled up, his back arching as he fought to free himself, his legs spread, his hips thrusting...

What the hell was she doing? She snapped herself out of the trance she'd fallen into, finishing off her wine and firmly turning the channel. The last thing she needed was to start noticing how beautifully he filled out a pair of pants, or how his shirt had displayed his muscled arms to perfection...or how his hair had swung sexily as he tossed it back and forth in the ropes...

Damn! She was doing it again! She bolted to her feet, striding into her bedroom and on into the bathroom, turning on the shower and wrenching off her clothes. She had to put him out of her mind. She would deal with the intolerable situation they were in when she was ready. Until then, she didn't want to think about how Scott's lips looked luscious and inviting. Or the way his buttocks seemed taut and altogether biteable...

Christ! She jumped into the shower, scrubbing herself mercilessly, wishing she could wash his memory away as easily. She tormented herself by turning the water to cold just before she got out, hoping that that would cool her pounding blood.

It didn't.

She fixed herself something for dinner and ate it silently on her patio, enjoying the light breeze that blew in from the west. After taking her last bite of lasagna, she sat back and just allowed the quiet night to envelope her, letting it settle her nerves and silence her mind.

Around midnight, she dragged herself in to bed. Eric would be by to pick her up for a day of sailing the next day.

The machine clicked on and he hung up with an irritated grunt. Was the woman never home? Or did she screen her calls like most of the people he knew. It'd been a week since that fateful morning when they'd discovered they were married, and he'd thought non-stop about Angela. His wife! The idea was utterly outrageous, yet strangely intriguing. If anyone had told him that he'd actually be married, he would have scoffed at them. But now...

Scott imagined Angela's face, delicate, yet strong. Her slender, yet full curves. The way she'd felt and tasted...what little he remembered. He heartily wished he could recall the sex they'd obviously had. He had no doubt that it was hot and satisfying. He intended to find out for sure before he lost his mind with the wondering. He dropped off to sleep with her fathomless green eyes following him.

The next morning, he tried calling her again, but once more, he got her damned machine. He left to catch his plane to Pittsburgh, where there was a TV taping, deciding that he'd try her at work on Monday. She had to be there then and he had lost his patience, needing to see her as soon as possible.

Angela picked up the phone absently, rapidly typing on her keyboard as she spoke automatically.

"Davis and Johnston. How may I help you?"

"Angel."

Angela's fingers stuttered on the keys, her concentration shattered as the familiar voice wafted to her from the other end of the phone line. "H-hello? Who is speaking, please?" She knew, but she had to hear him confirm it.

"Come on, sweetheart," the voice purred into her ear. "You know very well who this is. It's your loving husband."

She swallowed reflexively, closing her eyes and tried to bring her respiration back under control. "What do you want, Scott?"

"Oh, Angel," he murmured in mock-hurt. "you sound so cold. Don't you have a sweet word or two for me?"

Her breathing and heartrate returning to normal, she gritted her teeth as her annoyance rose. "I have a word or two, but they wouldn't be anything sweet. Would you still like to hear them?" she asked in a deceptively pleasant tone.

He chuckled in amusement, scolding her lightly. "Oh, my dear wife, I don't think you're taking to your new role very well. Perhaps you would like some suggestions on how to sweeten your disposition?"

She growled softly, not wanting her co-worker to hear her conversation. "What the hell do you want, Scott?"

He sighed slowly, as if disappointed that she were not more receptive. "We need to talk."

"Okay," she said curtly. "talk."

"No," he stated flatly. "We need to meet."

"I don't want to-"

"You do want this divorce, don't you?" he interrupted her brusquely.

She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Yes."

"Well, how do you intend to get it if we don't get together and discuss what we're going to do?"

He had a good point there. But the thought of being anywhere near him made her feel uneasy. She hadn't liked the dreams she'd been having the last few nights. She'd awakened in a cold sweat, the feel of his lips and the heat of his eyes still imprinted on her.

With a grumble of reluctance, she agreed to meet him. "You can join me for lunch and-"

"I'm going to be in town this evening. I'll pick you up from home and we'll go for a ride on the beach."

"I can't do that," she exclaimed in a whisper, thinking that Eric was supposed to come over for a quiet evening of dinner and videos.

"It's the only night I'm in town, so it has to be tonight. So, make up your mind whether you want to get this ball rolling on the divorce or if you want to wait another couple weeks."

She cursed softly under her breath. "Oh, all right, damn you. You never take no for an answer, do you?"

"If I had, I perhaps might not be in this predicament in the first place," he said wryly, then couldn't help adding with a bit of acid. "That's assuming you even said no to begin with." You obviously ended up saying yes, so."

Angela gasped and hissed, "Oh, you son of a-" She stopped herself before she completely lost her composure. "Go to hell, Scott Levy!"

"Too late, honey," he chuckled self-mockingly. "I'm already there. I'll pick you up at 7:30. Be ready."

Before she could respond, he hung up. She restrained herself from slamming the receiver down in frustration. It was all she could do to pretend to the people around her that her life hadn't just taken an unpleasant turn.

At 7:30 on the dot, the doorbell rang and she jumped as if goosed, letting out a little squeak of surprise, then admonished herself for her jitteriness. She went to the door, pausing for a long moment, taking a deep breath before opening it.

The impact of his presence hit her like a punch to the stomach, leaving her momentarily dumb. He wore a pair of stone-washed jeans that seemed to have been painted on him and a sleeveless belly-shirt that left large expanses of smooth tanned skin to her greedy gaze. When she finally dragged her eyes from his thoroughly masculine display to meet his, they were gleaming with sardonic amusement.

"Hi, honey.I'm home."

When they reached the street, she halted abruptly, firmly shaking her head.

"I am not getting on that thing."

He picked up a helmet and walked over to her. "Oh, come on," he cajoled. "It's just a harmless little bike. It won't bite you."

She gave him a quelling look, crossing her arms over her chest. "More and more people are getting killed by motorcycles every day. I don't want to be part of a statistic. We'll take my car."

Scott's jaw set in a hard line as he determinedly slipped the helmet on her head, fastening the strap under her chin, despite her attempts to stop him. "The people who get killed on motorcycles are the ones that don't wear protective helmets and don't know how to drive. I've had a bike for 15 years and have never had even a little ticket, much less an accident."

Angela glared at him for a full minute before grunting and climbing on the back seat, refusing to look at him. If she had, she would have seen a slight grin of triumph flit across his face before he followed suit and climbed on in front of her He reached behind him and grasped her hands, drawing them firmly around his waist.

"Hold on tight, now, and don't let go." He revved up the motor and sped off, smiling as she clutched him, which was what he'd intended. He wound his way expertly through the evening traffic, moving towards the mostly deserted beach. He ignored the signs that warned that no motor vehicles were allowed past a certain point, and bumped over the uneven surface of the beach until he reached the more smooth sands of the shore. She protested ineffectually that they were breaking the law, but he only laughed and continued, picking up more speed.

They flew past late-strollers and lapping waves, outrunning a few ambitious dogs, finally slowing to a halt beneath a pier. He rocked the bike up onto it's kickstand and hopped off, grasping her by the hips and swinging her high in the air before letting her slide slowly down his body until her toes touched the powdery softness of the sand. When her feet were steady, she rounded off and socked him in the chin, causing him to stagger back a step.

"Shit, woman!" he shouted angrily. "What the fuck was that for?"

She stood with her arms akimbo, her eyes flashing green fire. "Don't you ever do that again!"

Scott rubbed his aching jaw, flashing her an annoyed look. "do what?"

"You nearly scared the crap out of me, driving that fast! You could have hit someone. You could have skidded out of control. You could have-"

"But I didn't," he muttered, taking off his helmet and leaning against the bike, something akin to a sulky pout on his countenance. She imitated his motions, removing her own helmet and handed it to him ungraciously. "Yeah, thanks to God's vigilant watch over fools and children. I don't know which one you are right now. What possessed you to even ignore the signs and come down here anyway?"

He shrugged crossly, raking his fingers through his hair several times. "I had thought you'd like to feel the wind on your face, then come here to watch the waves for a while."

She stared at him for a moment, oddly disarmed by his well-meaning, though ill-conceived, gesture. She tried to cover up her feelings with gruff surliness.

"Why, when we're only going to be discussing our divorce proceedings?"

His expression suddenly changed, becoming wistful as he gazed out into the deep blue of the waters. "Actually," he began almost tentatively. "I wanted to talk to you about.perhaps.postponing our divorce for a little while."

She gaped at him, floored by his announcement. "You.what?"

He met her shocked green eyes with his intense hazel ones. Reaching out, he caught one of her wrists and pulled her towards him slowly, giving her plenty of time to free herself, if she wanted to. "I think I'd like to stay married for a while." He was both surprised and pleased when she didn't struggle to escape his grip, tugging her against him, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Why?" she asked quietly, her heart pounding against her ribs at the feel of his hard body against her, her hands on his chest, the warmth seeping into her palms through the cotton of his shirt.

He tilted his head slightly, a sensual smile quirking his lips. "I want a chance to know what it's like to make love to you and remember it this time."

She felt her face flush at the desire heating his gaze. "Scott." She didn't know what to say. She knew she should say something that would bring them back to their senses. But her mind was completely and totally empty of ideas. Well, at least, of ideas that would stop the path they appeared to be inexorably wandering down. At the moment, the thought of sinking her teeth into that luscious lower lip of his seemed to take precedence over everything in her mind.

"So." he murmured huskily, his fingers inscribing maddening circles on her back. "what do you think?"

She tore her gaze away from his mouth and looked into his hooded, dark eyes. "Think?" She couldn't think worth a damn with the heat of his body almost burning her. She couldn't think with the feel of his growing arousal pressing insistently into her belly. She didn't want to think at all. For once, she just wanted to feel. She didn't want to analyze her motives for doing or not doing something. She wanted to experience what it felt like to be seared by pure sensation. She splayed her hands on his chest, arching purposefully into him, giving him a slow, catlike grin. "I think." she purred seductively. "you should stop wasting time and kiss me."

He chuckled, bending his head, his breath warm and moist on her skin. "Whatever you say.wife." He covered her mouth with his, lightly wetting her lips with the tip of his tongue. He delved into the hot depths at her open invitation, curling his tongue around hers and drawing it into his mouth to explore, sucking on it gently, at first, then more strongly as her response encouraged him to be more bold. Her moans of pleasure sent a thrill of liquid heat curling through his body, centering between his legs. His hands roamed restlessly over her back and hips, slipping beneath the material of her top to cup her breasts.

Angela groaned at the deft plucking of her nipples into stiff peaks, curving against him as he molded her flesh to his palms. She tore her mouth away, gasping for air as his lips trailed fire down her throat, sucking on the tender skin in the hollow of her shoulder.

"Christ, Angel, you're driving me crazy," he growled as he scooted onto the seat of the cycle, lifting her to straddle his thighs, yanking up her top to capture a nipple with his teeth, lashing his tongue over it, then enclosing it in heat, drawing it deep.

Angela cried out at the streak of delight that shot straight through her body to the center of her. She clutched his head as he lavished attention on both breasts, making her whimper and shift on his lap.

"Shit, woman, keep that up and I'll take you right here, right now," he warned hoarsely.

"Awww," she whispered sultrily. "and here I thought I was doing a good job of 'keeping it up'."

He nipped her sharply, eliciting a yelp. "You little tease, Angel," he accused, grasping her hips to keep her from wriggling so distractingly. "Are you actually trying to get me to fuck you right here?"

She tossed her head insouciantly. "Well, obviously it's not working."

"I'm shocked," he gasped, humor glittering in his eyes. "I never realized my wife was an exhibitionist as well as a shameless flirt."

She smiled cockily at him, her lashes fluttering suggestively. "Oh, there's a lot of things you don't know about me, Birdman."

His brow rose in surprise. "Birdman? I'm guessing you finally deigned to watch one of the ECW shows?" She blushed faintly, averting her eyes to his chest. He slipped a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to his scrutiny. "Come on, you can admit it now. You've been caught cold. Confess."

"Oh, all right," she sighed, flushing even more at his chuckles. "It was quite by accident," she said, trying to dash his mirth, but it only made him laugh even more. She grabbed a lock of his hair and tugged it hard, making him yip in pain.

"You know, I should report you to the Bureau of Domestic Violence. My poor body's been abused horribly."

She smirked at him. "Face it, Levy, you deserved every single bit of it." He mumbled something suspiciously like an insult under his breath. "What was that?" she questioned threateningly, waving a closed fist in the air near his nose.

He ducked his head in mock-terror, covering his face with his hands, exclaiming in a twangy southern accent, "Oh, nothin'! Nothin'! I was a-justin' clearin' my throat. Please, don't hit me agin, missus!"

She tried to remain unmoved by his antics, but she couldn't quite, dissolving into giggles as he began to tickle her, making her squeal in dismay. They both fell against each other, laughing breathlessly, Scott's face nuzzling Angela's throat.

He began to lick her skin, lazy flicks of his tongue that left moist heat in it's wake. She caught her breath, letting her head fall back to give him better access, moaning softly as he took full advantage, sucking and grazing his teeth over her. His hands kneaded her hips and buttocks, brushing the backs against the taut skin of her bare stomach.

"Scott." she said in a barely restrained whisper. "please.touch me."

He tilted his head back to look at her, his lids lowered languidly. "Touch you where?" he asked. "here?" He trailed his fingers over her collarbone. "Or here?" He cupped a firm breast, pinching her nipple almost painfully. "Or how about.here?" he rasped, molding his palm between her legs, feeling her dampness through the denim, intensely turned on by it.

"Scott, yes.please," she moaned again, moving against his hand urgently.

He exhaled harshly before shifting on the seat, now sitting astride, Angela still straddling his lap, her back pressed to the handlebars. He swiftly unfastened her shorts, helping her off with them, groaning at the sight of the lacy panties, then they, too followed the shorts. He slipped his fingers into the wet fire of her, burying his face in her neck as his fingers buried themselves inside her slick heat. They both sighed in pleasure, his thumb circling her clitoris as two fingers probed her depths, slowly withdrawing and thrusting, coaxing her hips to join his rhythm.

"Mmmm, Angel, you're so hot," he husked, kissing her lingeringly, matching his tongue to his fingers' tempo.

Angela gasped his name, clinging to his shoulders, her world beginning to spin out of control. She could hear the sound of someone mewing and whimpering, realizing with a start that it was her.

"Oh, baby," he groaned, removing his hand to wrench at his jeans, his fingers becoming suddenly clumsy in his need. He cursed under his breath, then his hands were brushed away as Angela released his aching shaft from it's confines, wrapping them around it. He gave a low growl of pleasure as she stroked him, tracing his thick, hard length with her fingertips, cupping his heavy balls in her palms and rolling them gently, cooing her approval of his charms. He raised her up and she guided him to her, working together as if they'd done this a million times. He sank home with a solid rightness that defied description.

They moved together in slow, rocking motions, his shaft barely thrusting inside her. Soon, however, their bodies began to feel the strain of holding back and he pulled out further and further, driving deeper each time, her nearly sobbing voice spurring him into a frenzy. He grasped her buttocks, lifting her and jerking her down to meet his powerful plunges, hungrily devouring her mouth as he fast approached his release.

"Oh, my God, Scott!" she whimpered loudly, her nails scoring his back through his shirt "Yes..please.please!"

Scott, panting harshly, nearly rocked the bike off it's stand with the force of his thrusts, sucking in his breath as she screamed his name, her internal muscles seeming to clench him in a hot, wet fist. He lunged savagely once more, a cry that felt like it was being wrenched directly from his groin exploding from his throat as he felt himself simultaneously erupt inside of her, his quick spasms blending with her milking ones until they both were shuddering helplessly against each other.

After what seemed like decades, Scott moved, shifting most of his weight off her, mumbling an apology for nearly crushing her against the handlebars. She gave him an exhausted, yet sated smile, brushing damp tendrils of hair from his forehead.

"No problem, Birdman," she murmured languorously, stretching and purring, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in months.

"That was fuckin' fantastic," he groaned against her shoulder, his fingers caressing her hip absently.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" she agreed, gazing unseeingly up at the stars.

"I don't know how I can't remember the first time with you. I think this is imprinted on my brain forever."

She smiled gently, dreamily tracing his features. "Mine, too." After a long pregnant pause, she sighed and whispered, "Okay, yes." He raised his head to look down at her, a bemused expression on his face. "'Okay, yes' what?"

She screwed up her courage and met his eyes squarely. "I'll postpone the divorce for a little bit," she replied, but added quickly, "but just a little bit. After all, it's not as if we love each other or anything. We.just seem to have a mutual physical attraction. I'm willing to explore it a little more."

He grinned as if he'd just won the largest state lottery in history. "Cool. And when our.'mutual attraction' fades, we'll just."

"Just go ahead with the divorce," she finished firmly. "After all, something this intense can't last for more than, what do you say? A couple of weeks? Three?"

"A month at most," he concurred, his lips beginning to seek out her tender flesh again, hands finding the already familiar pleasure points on her body.

Mmmm, yes. We should be free of each other inside.3 months?"

"Undoubtedly," he conceded. "Hey, why don't we go back to your place? It's starting to get chilly out here."

He attempted to 'help' her get dressed, in which he managed to hinder her progress before she slapped his hands away, and finished on her own.

They arrived back at her house, stumbling across the threshold as they tried to grope each other while opening the door. They giggled as they let their clothing fall where they may and fell into bed, their humor rapidly turning to passion. They spent the rest of the night learning each other's most intimate needs, memorizing the texture and taste of one another.

In the morning, they showered together, managing to turn their ablutions into a rousing watersporting event.

She fixed him breakfast, as they chattered amiably, finding out each other's likes and dislikes, what they enjoyed doing in their spare time, what their goals were in life.

It didn't seem possible to learn so much about another person in so short a time, but Angela and Scott conquered that feat, though they, by no means, knew everything. But they were avaricious to know everything.

Finally, it was time Scott had to leave for his mid-morning flight to Boston for a show that afternoon. They kissed hungrily at the door, unable to quite break the kiss for him to go. They started to laugh over this, but reluctantly parted, he promising to call her later that day.

Angela didn't quite know when her lust for Scott had toppled headlong into love, but she awoke one morning, wrapped in his arms, feeling safe and cherished. She'd gazed into his sleeping face and thought that she wanted to spend the rest of her life waking up to that face. Strangely enough, the idea didn't scare the crap out of her as she thought it might. She felt a glow suffuse her at the realization that she loved this gorgeous, sweet, exasperating, wickedly amusing, sexy man. She wasn't sure if he loved her, but she did suspect that he cared for her more than just a warm body in his bed.

As she stroked a finger over his jaw, she was abruptly determined to hold on to this one. She didn't know how she would do it, but she would. She wasn't going to let Scott get away. She settled back into his embrace chuckling softly when she thought of the things she'd do to try to coax that heart of his to her side.

"And just what are you snickering about, wife?" Scott asked sleepily, tightening his hold on her and rubbing his bristly cheeks against her tender skin, making her wriggle and laugh in delight.

Oh, nothing.husband," she said breezily, pretending not to notice his groan as she shifted her rear more snugly into his crotch. "Just thinking."

"Uh-oh.that doesn't sound good. What's thinking on a normal person is scheming on you. What are you up to, little girl?"

"Nothing, I swear." She muttered, turning in his arms to kiss him thoroughly to forestall any further questions. The kiss turned into a long, sensual session of lovemaking that left them both gasping and satisfied.

One morning a couple of weeks later, she dove for the bathroom upon waking, feeling the worst nausea she'd ever felt in her life. After emptying the contents of her stomach, she rested her forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink, glad Scott was on a tour of New York. She must be coming down with the flu or something.

But by early afternoon, she felt fine, figuring it was probably something she ate. She didn't give it another thought.

Until she was sick four straight mornings, her mysterious nausea clearing up by lunchtime. A dreadful idea began to occur to her and she quickly made an appointment with her gynecologist. Some tests were taken and she was a nervous wreck for the 3 days it took for the results to come back.

Scott unlock the door to his wife's house, dropping his suitcase by the door and calling out Angela's name. He immediately noticed something odd. The lights were off in the living room! She usually had the lights on even in the daytime, saying that she hated the idea of shadows lurking in corners. His lips twitched at some of her strange quirks, which only served to make her even more desirable to him.

He was about to call her name again when he suddenly saw her, sitting silently and still on the couch, watching him with a reserved expression. He felt a shiver of unease creep down his spine.

"Angel?" he asked in a hesitant tone he'd never expected to hear out of his own mouth. "What are you doing sitting in the dark? What's the matter? Did something happen?"

"Scott, come sit down."

Oh, he definitely didn't like the sound of her voice. That was the voice of disaster. The voice of tragedy. Of doom. He warily walked over and sat beside her, his eyes following her hands as they twisted apprehensively in her lap. "So.what's up?"

She took a deep breath and looked straight at him. "I went to the doctor a week ago, Scott, and they took some tests.."

Scott's chest seemed to grow suddenly constricted, his lungs unable to inhale fully. Oh, my God! He thought. She's found out she's got cancer and she's going to die! Oh, holy fuck! This can't be happening. Not his Angel. "And." That one word was like fire seared spikes in his throat.

"And I received the results today."

How long would he have left with her? A year.a few months? He was so caught up in the anticipation of his impending loss that at first he didn't hear her next words. He looked at her blankly. "Huh?"

"I'm pregnant," she repeated patiently, avoiding his eyes, her hair shielding her face.

"Pregnant," he said as if he'd never heard the word before. "you're pregnant."

She nodded. "Six weeks."

Pregnant! Scott abruptly sagged against the sofa, burying his face in his hands, shuddering violently.

"I'm so sorry, Scott," she started to cry. "I know you probably didn't want this to happen, and perhaps I should have taken responsibility for protecting myself, but honestly, I never thought about it. If you blame me for this whole mess, I'll understand and I won't hinder you if you want to divorce me as quickly as possible."

Scott shook his head in disbelief. "Shut up!" he shouted. "Shut up and let me think a minute, will you?"

She flinched and fell silent, staring numbly at her hands.

Scott was in shock. One minute he was already planning Angela's funeral, the next he finds out he's going to be a daddy. A daddy? He contemplated this idea for a long, hard moment. Trying the thought out loud.

"I'm going to be a daddy." Hmmm.he sort of liked the sound of it. "Daddy. Dad. Pops." He suddenly began to laugh, startling Angela into gaping at him as if he'd lost his mind. He vaulted to his feet, plucking her off the cushions and swinging her about, just as suddenly halting and setting her carefully back on the couch, holding her close as if she might break.

"Sorry, did I hurt anything. Geez, what a fuckin' jerk! Tossing you around in your condition. Do you need anything? Something to drink? A pillow?"

Angela just blinked at him. He knelt before her, holding her hands in his, looking into her eyes solemnly.

"Angel, baby, say something," he pleaded softly. "Aren't you happy about the baby?"

Angela reached up and touched his face tenderly, tears starting to spill down her cheeks, a tentative smile spreading across her features. "Of course, I'm happy, you stupid birdman!" she answered in a whisper. "I love you, so I would naturally love something that is a part of you."

It was Scott's turn to blink at her. "You.love me?"

She nodded slowly, averting her gaze, not wanting to see the pity come into his because he didn't and probably wouldn't return her love.

This was more than he could take in all at once. He thumped onto the floor, staring unseeingly at a spot between his knees. She loved him. His Angel loved him and was going to have his baby. Their baby. He pondered how he felt about Angela. Thought deeply.

Angela joyous mood over his acceptance of being a father dampened at the stunned expression on his face. Christ! Why'd she have to go and admit to him that she loved him? They could have blissfully gone about their lives as a family without him knowing that. She would have been satisfied to know that he would care for her and love their child. But, oh, no! Stupid Angela had to stick her big foot in it.again.

"Well."

His voice startled her out of her miserable thoughts to glance at him, expecting to hear him tell her in a kind, but nevertheless sadly regretful voice that he didn't love her.

"In that case, I think we need to get married.again."

She found herself once more gaping at him, flabbergasted. "Wh-what?"

A somewhat arrogant smirk flashed over his countenance as he picked himself up off the floor and pulled her with him into a tight hug. "Well, we didn't get to invite any of our families or friends to the first one. Hell, I never even got to buy you an engagement or wedding ring. I hope you're not expecting the Hope Diamond or anything. I am just a lowly wrestler, after all."

"Scott Levy, are you joking with me? Because if you are, I'll give you such a punch, you're great-grandchildren will feel it!" she warned menacingly, balling her fist against his chest.

He chuckled, gently uncurling her fingers and kissing the palm. "No, I'm not joking. And if I were before, I certainly wouldn't be now, not with a threat like that."

Angela threw her arms around his neck and kissed him so hard he protested.

"Hey, hold on! Save some for the honeymoon." He ducked her slap, coming back to kiss her lips softly.

"I love you, too, Angel," he whispered softly.

Angela started to bawl like a baby, completely nonplusing Scott and mortifying herself. He stroked her back crooning nonsense words, hoping that she'd stop soon.

After about five minutes, she wound down into sniffles and hiccups. "I'm sorry. It must be the hormones kicking in early."

"Hormones?" he asked dumbly

"Yes. The doctor said that pregnancy produces inordinate amounts of hormones, which is liable to make my emotions a little unstable."

"And how long does that last?" he asked warily.

"Oh, not very long," she replied, burying her face in his chest and snuggling into him.

Scott sighed in relief. "Good."

"Only about four or five months or so."

"Oh, fuck!" Scott gasped, his arms suddenly becoming slack, sitting down hard on the couch. Looking a little pale.

"Honey," Angela cried in concern. "are you okay?"

Scott shook his head. "You mean to tell me you're going to be crying like a fountain at the drop of a hat at any given time?"

She shrugged casually. "Oh, not all the time. Sometimes, I'll get a little moody, depressed. Perhaps a bit irritated. But that's no big deal. I'm sure you deal with that kind of behavior and worse in the lockerrooms, right honey? Scott?"

Scott had stopped listening, envisioning 9 months of extreme mood swings from all ends of the spectrum.and most probably aimed at him. His last thought before he slipped into blessed unconsciousness, was 'I wonder if I can get disability pay for a wrestler's wife driving him insane?'

The End