Page 87 of Angel Eyes

She bobbed her head in a manner that told me she was three sheets to the wind, and there was no chance she could undress herself.

Perfect.

I crossed to the armoire, opening drawers and pushing aside articles of clothing until I found a T-shirt and a pair of silk pajama shorts.

“Come on, then.” I grasped both of her hands, lifting her to her feet. She pivoted slowly, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and revealing a bare expanse of skin courtesy of her backless dress. My mouth dried out as my eyes slid over her, mapping out every freckle and curve until they finally landed on the soft dip at the base of her spine.

My cock twitched with interest.

No—you shut the fuck up.

“Everything okay?” She swayed dangerously, and I reached out a hand to steady her.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, fumbling with the clasp of her dress, which was conveniently situated over the swell of her ass.

Sweet Mary and Joseph. Who had I pissed off in a past life to land myself with this particular brand of torture?

With a bit of effort, I unfastened the dress, and it slid to the floor, pooling around her ankles and leaving her in nothing but a lacy pair of black panties. I snapped my eyes shut.

Gabriel’s an idiot for leaving this girl alone.

And I’m an even bigger idiot for being here because she is one hundred percent off-limits.

I started to open my eyes but thought better of it. Best not to test the bounds of my newfound good nature. Instead, I reached for the place where I’d left her clothes until I felt the cotton of her T-shirt brush against my fingertips. Furrowing my brow in concentration, I traced the outline of the fabric, mapping out which way was right side up.

Juliet hiccupped again. “What … what are you doing back there?”

Dying a slow and painful death.

“Helping you get ready for bed.” I grimaced in frustration as I located a gap in the shirt that might have been an armhole.

“Yesss,” she said, slurring, “but why are your eyes closed?”

Because you’re drunk and I’m horny and this is all going to go south very quickly if I don’t get you clothed.

“Less questions,” I grunted, lifting the shirt over her head and sliding it over her body as carefully as I could without making contact with her skin.

She blew out a laugh. “Cristian, this shirt is on backward.”

My lips twitched. Sucks to be you then, sweetheart. Because there was no way I was going to attempt to fix it, least of all with my eyes closed. Who knew what irreversible consequences might result if I blindly groped her?

I cast a hand around for her shorts before kneeling in front of her. “Okay, put your hands on my shoulders.” And for God’s sake, do not fall on top of me. If she did, it would be game over for honorable Cristian.

She planted her hands on my shoulders, stepping into the shorts, and I dragged them up her legs, my heart ramming into my Adam’s apple when my thumbs grazed her hips. The second I got the shorts up around her waist, I shot to the other side of the room, propping myself against the wall with a hand and breathing heavily.

Fucking hell. I had undressed models, waitresses, girls looking for a good time on vacation—but none of it compared to what I’d just experienced putting Juliet’s clothes on.

Bringing myself under control, I turned to find Juliet already tucked beneath the covers, her eyelids drooping as she watched me. “You okay?”

I smirked. “Nothing a tranquilizer can’t fix.”

She snorted a laugh, and my chest hummed with satisfaction. “You’re funny, Cristian.”

I nodded. “Yeah, well, I should get out of here so you can get some sleep.”

“No, please.” She rolled onto her side. “Would you stay with me?”

“I can assure you that is a terrible idea.” I wasn’t about to mince words with her. I already deserved sainthood for the amount of restraint I had shown this evening, but I didn’t think for one second my resolve was foolproof.

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