Page 66 of Angel

Angel waits patiently as she finishes greeting all the excited kids. But she does a little hop in place, like an eager child. When it’s her turn, her face lights up. And my heart melts like a fucking pussy. I watch her intently. I don’t want to look away, in case I miss more of her smile. She chips at my dark soul. And little by little, the blackness fades.

It scares me.

Terrifies me.

She tilts her head back, laughing. She’s not the same woman right now, the one who pretends to be strong. No, she’s back to being a child, the one she never got to be. She’s holding such power over my soul. So much that I think I may actually be falling…

“Oh my God! She hugged me and let me take a selfie with her. I’m in fucking heaven,” Angel yells, and a mom throws her a look. “What? I’m happy… Keep it moving, lady.” Angel waves her off, and I laugh. I fucking laugh. A chest-popping laugh.

Night falls over Magic Kingdom, and people gather around. Standing. Staring at the castle. When the fireworks go off, Angel gasps and her mouth falls open in awe. My shoulder catches fire when it touches hers as the colorful explosives illuminate the sky above us. The light reflects in her eyes, and a single tear rolls down each cheek. I hover my arm behind her, wanting to pull her close to me, but I don’t. Why can’t I do it?

Lift your fucking arm. Pull her to you. Hold her like you want to shield her from the world. If I’m ready to be different for her, then why am I so fucking scared? She makes me want to be a better person. Heals me deep within. Sweeps away all those scars. And fuck it, I don’t want to hold back any longer.

I throw an arm around her, tucking her against me, and she smiles.

TWENTY-TWO

Angel

I hesitate at the idea of leaving the warmth of Venom’s back. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy being plastered to him for the duration of the ride. And Disney… he brought me to Disney? He was listening when I told him I’ve never been there, and knew how much it would mean to me.

My heart has never been fuller.

I get off his bike first and admire him while he stands. His emerald eyes shining down at me leave me speechless. I place my hand in his calloused palm as he holds on to it tightly, like he never wants to let go. He tugs me closer, and I land against his chest.

Under my palms, with his leather cut draped on each side, I ball his shirt in my fist, causing it to wrinkle beneath my grip. All the while, I stare at the tattooed skin of his neck. I want his arms to enclose me, hold me tight, but they don’t. Even though I know he wants to, because I can feel his heart racing below my fingertips, see the pulsing in his neck. It picks up speed the longer we stay like this.

“Thank you for tonight. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. Ever,” I say quietly to his chest. I don’t dare meet his eyes right now. The butterflies in my belly are already a crazy mess, and if I look up at him, I might just melt into a puddle.

“It was nothing. Come on, let’s get some rest. We have an early drop off tomorrow.” He takes my hands in his, dropping them from his chest, then he steps away. I follow him to our room as my heart pounds against my rib cage. Why is it beating so fast? My skin is on fire, and I can’t control my breathing.

He holds the door open, and I brush past him inside. I toss my leather on the desk, and I’m left in just my tank top and skinny jeans. I unzip my boots and laugh. “You know I am so telling the guys you took me to Disney.”

When he doesn’t answer, I turn to see his broad back and shoulders as he secures the chain into the lock. His muscles move as he leans against the frame with his arms outstretched. He stays like that for an immeasurable number of minutes. But then he turns his powerful body and the air is swept from my lungs. His eyes exhibit a craving, a need, a desperation within their depths. I’ve seen the way he looks at me, but nothing compares to this.

No, this is new.

I forget to breathe, caging the air inside my chest.

He walks toward me. Stalking. Like he’s about to claim me. Take over my body. He’s not looking away, and so I walk backwards until I hit a hard surface, my open palms landing on the cold plaster. I can’t go anywhere. The wall is blocking any chance I have of escaping this man. But… I don’t want to escape.

The heat rises inside my core as soon as he reaches me. But he doesn’t touch me, and the torture of waiting is killer. His tattoo-sleeved arms hang to his side with confidence, and the way he crowds me makes me feel so tiny in comparison. I always considered myself a tall woman, but with Venom, he’s like a mountain, and I’m lost in him.

His eyes penetrate me, skim over my body. And I lay my head back. I like the way he looks at me, peering into me like he wants to devour every single part of me. His eyes are alive. The empty darkness is gone. Vanished. And for the first time, I see him. The real him.

Deacon.

Deacon Oliver England.

He collects my wrists, seductively brushing my arms as he raises them until they are held high above my head and resting on the wall. I let out a quiet moan and close my eyes, before opening them again. His warmth fills the space as his chest presses onto my hard, perked nipples, crushing my breasts and forcing the tops to escape my tight tank top. The way his nostrils flare, and his eyes light up, it soaks me to my core. I throb, ache, and beg for him.

His masculine woodsy scent is taking over my body, consuming my mind. “W-what are you doing?” I whisper.

His breathing is fast, and his eyes light me up like a match. “I’m taking what’s mine. Because if I have to go one more day without touching you, without feeling you, I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind.” My cheeks warm, and my breath catches. He lowers my arms, and I flinch as soon as his fingertips graze my chin and tilt my head to him. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would destroy every part of me, take my own life, before I would ever hurt you.”

I part my lips, and that’s when it happens. Fireworks. To hell with the ones at Disney, these are like none other. His mouth crashes on mine, and I close my eyes. His soft lips, the way he tastes. The violent, fast, desperate, yet satisfying way he’s devouring my mouth has me begging for more.

I grab his shirt, pulling him closer, and he moans against my parted lips. When his tongue finds mine, it’s not messy. It’s pure magic. And I have never felt more alive. He’s a great fucking kisser.

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