Page 62 of Angel Eyes

Maybe it was just my imagination, but for a second, I could have sworn her leg brushed against mine, just barely, but enough for me to feel it everywhere. Swallowing, I let my hand linger near her knee, grazing a knuckle over her bare skin.

Tell me to stop, angel.

Instead, she moved an inch closer until there was no mistaking the press of her hip against the outside of my thigh. Angling her body toward me, she reached over and slowly traced the collar of my shirt, her eyelids growing heavy as though she were in a trance. Just as her fingers reached the base of my throat, she pulled her hand away. I caught it and pressed it flat against my chest so she could feel the organ thundering inside it.

A soft whimper escaped her lips. “Gabriel …”

“I know.” I knew she just wanted to be friends, knew she had just gotten out of a relationship. Knew I couldn’t drag her onto my lap, pull down the straps of her dress, and paint every inch of her skin with my fingertips.

I knew it, and yet …

My hand moved of its own volition, fisting the fabric at her waist. She clutched my biceps as our faces drew together, our noses grazing as her warm breath feathered over my lips.

“Tell me you still think about it,” I demanded against her mouth. “About the last time we were here together in this room, on this couch.”

“I still think about it,” she said, her brows pinching together. “I think about it all the time.”

“Does it get you off?”

She moaned, and my throat thickened when she pressed her thighs together. It was all I could do not to lay her down right now and bury my face between her legs.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I think about you spreading me over your lap, your body hard beneath me, sweaty and aching for relief. And …” She closed her eyes. “When I touch myself at night, I pretend it’s you. I imagine you filling me, making me come apart.”

“Juliet …”

My lips dipped to the skin between her neck and shoulder, drinking in her soft pants even as I tried to rein myself in. But there was no help for it—I was fucking aching for her. I was going to unzip my jeans, spread her thighs wide, and sink into her soaking heat.

Friendship be damned.

Her fingers slid beneath my shirt and that was all the encouragement I needed to hitch her leg over mine, lifting her onto my lap so she was straddling me. She rocked once, and I let my head fall back, taking in the flush of arousal creeping up her neck.

“Put me out of my misery, angel.”

Her eyes fluttered open, falling to mine, and the desire coating them would have been enough to make my knees buckle had I been standing.

“Gabriel—”

The peal of a ringtone detonated in my pocket, shocking my senses like ice water.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I dragged a hand over my forehead. “I got carried away.”

“We both did,” she said on a swallow. Slowly, she lifted away from me, and I immediately missed her warmth. “Should you get that?” She nodded to the device peeking out of my pocket, and I grunted.

Whoever was calling must have a death wish.

“Allô?”

“Well, good afternoon to you too.”

Nora.

I drew in a slow inhale, searching for patience. “Have I ever told you that you have the worst timing?”

“Oh? Interrupting something, am I?” I could practically hear her smile, and my eye twitched. “Well, hopefully, this will make up for it. I’m having a dinner party on Saturday, and I’m calling to invite you.”

“Nora, that in no way makes up for …” I let the end of my sentence fall away. Some information went beyond the pale of friendship. “What time is the dinner party?” I finished before she could put two and two together.

“Six o’clock,” she said, then added smugly, “and tell Juliet she’s welcome too.”

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