Page 49 of Angel

I blush. At least, I think I do. Blushing isn’t really my thing, I’m too shameless for that. But the heat in my cheeks is undeniable. See? Angel does abnormal things to me. He turns everything on its head, changes all the rules, makes me want things I’ve never wanted before.

Next to us, someone clears their throat loudly. I drag my gaze away from Angel to find Hayden standing right there, arms crossed, eyebrow lifted.

“Oh, hi, I didn’t see you there,” I say, guilt creeping in.

“Yeah, I know.” Annoyance mixes with amusement in his voice and our earlier conversation comes back to me.

Reluctantly, I pull away from Angel so we’re not blocking Hayden out. But I can’t stop myself from keeping a hand on his shoulder, and Angel keeps one of his on my lower back.

Fuck, that’s so hot. There’s something so possessive about a man touching me like that. Like he can’t bear to lose the contact. Like he’s making a public declaration that I’m his.

I lean into it. The heat from his palm seeps through the thin fabric of my robe and directly into my skin. The weight of it is perfect, just solid enough for me to know he’s there. It sends a sumptuous shiver through me, and I think I might have discovered a new erogenous zone.

Hayden looks back and forth between us, gaze lingering on the hand I still have on Angel’s shoulder. I can see the concern in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. More guilt creeps in, ruining the high I’ve been riding since spotting Angel from the stage.

I know he’s worried about me. He doesn’t want me to get hurt. I appreciate how much he cares, I really do. It’s just that…

Angel’s not like any of the other guys I might have foolishly pursued in the past. He’s gentle and tender. He’s innocent and sweet. There isn’t a single malicious bone in his body. I’d bet my entire wardrobe that he’s never had a single negative thought about anyone.

How am I supposed to stay away from him? How am I supposed to resist? Even if he is straight or so deep in the closet he’ll never see daylight. There’s just something about Angel that calls to me and I can’t ignore it.

“You were amazing up there,” Angel says, interrupting the silent conversation Hayden and I are having.

Gratefully, I turn my attention back to him. “Aw, thanks, teddy bear.”

“It’s really cool to see it in person instead of in a video.” The earnestness in Angel’s eyes is breathtaking.

Just how many videos of me has he watched? How many times has he watched them?

“You’ve seen videos of Rhys dancing?” Hayden asks.

Angel nods. “Yeah, that first time at your dad’s birthday. And then… I looked up more on my own.” He scratches his jaw a little sheepishly.

The look Hayden shoots me is conflicted. As if he wants to like Angel—because, come on, who can resist him?—but then remembers why he has his reservations.

“Just the dancing videos?” Hayden continues.

Angel flushes red, visible even in the dim and flashing lights of the club. “Uh, no, I’ve also seen… the other ones.” He sneaks a glance at me before dropping his gaze. “You were in some of them,” he says to Hayden.

“Oh.” A slight furrow appears between Hayden’s brows as he turns to me. “I didn’t know that.”

Shit. Hayden knows I’ve been talking with Angel a lot, obviously. But I didn’t tell him that Angel’s apparently been watching videos of me—dancing and fucking—almost nonstop since that party. It’s the type of thing I would normally share with Hayden. In fact, it’s something I’d usually brag about to all the boys. But I haven’t mentioned it because, well, I wasn’t sure how Hayden would react.

More evidence of Angel’s abnormal effect on me.

The hurt that flashes across Hayden’s face upends the bucket of guilt that’s been steadily dripping on me the past several minutes. But he quickly replaces it with one of his broad smiles, the same one his fans have dubbed his golden-retriever smile.

“I’m glad you got to come and see Rhys in person tonight,” Hayden says to Angel.

I have no doubt he’s sincere. Hayden is nothing if not always sincere and gracious. But I can still hear the tightness in his voice, the hint of discomfort.

His gaze suddenly shifts over my shoulder and a spark of relief colors his expression. “The guys are here. Let me flag them down.”

Hayden moves to slip past me. Angel’s arm around my waist draws me closer to give Hayden a couple extra inches of space. It leaves me pressed against Angel again, and I let myself melt into his body.

“Is he okay?” Angel asks, and I blink in surprise.

“Uh, what do you mean?” I’m usually the only one who can read Hayden’s microexpressions. And that’s because we’ve been best friends for years. Most people—even Sebastian and Noel—can’t read him nearly as well as I can.

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