Page 87 of Pitiful Lies

But I ignore my inner voice. Angel is a handsome man, and he is powerful. He can have his pick of women. But here I am. Lucky that this tall, sexy, powerful man has picked me.

Even if only for a little while.

Yeah, it’s gonna hurt when he realizes I’m no match for him. But for now, I’m gonna grab onto what we have for however long we have it. I’m going to cling to him with both hands tight.

He makes me feel so damn good. It’s a high I’ve never felt. One I’m beginning to crave.

It’s reckless. Thoughtless. And I am not a fan of the whole YOLO thing, but YO fucking LO.

If I only live once, I wanna live as much as I can with him. Angel isn’t good in the traditional sense. He’s dangerous. Maybe even scary. But he makes me feel so damn good.

No other man has ever made me feel this way.

Oh shit.

My head is swimming and my pulse races like a pack of hounds chasing a rabbit.

Fuck. I’m so stupid.

I did the one thing I should never have done. I’ve gone ahead and given my heart to him. And I am realizing it all right now as I stand there frozen in Angel’s stare.

I’m in love with him.

He cocks his head to the side, measuring his thoughts before he answers the question I’ve just asked and already forgotten about.

“Only an hour. But I promise to twirl you around the dance floor, take you outside on the terrace overlooking the rose gardens, then I’ll kiss you under the moonlight,” he says, and I swoon.

My panties are ready to just melt off my body. Angel’s grip on me tightens, and he speaks low this time.

For my ears only.

“After that, I’m gonna take you back to our hotel room, strip you out of that gown you’ve got on that’s making me crazy, then I’m gonna fuck you until you come screaming my name. I won’t stop till you see stars, my dirty Little Doll,” he whispers and my heart squeezes so tight it’s a wonder I don’t pass out.

“Angel!” a shrill voice interrupts us, and thank God, because honestly, I’m halfway to coming just from his words.

The woman is stunning, and familiar. My heart tightens inside my chest. I recognize her.

It’s her.

The blonde I saw him with the night I left Jersey City for my parents’ condo in Fort Lauderdale. The woman I thought he was cheating with.

I know now there was nothing going on, but still. I tense.

She is coming in hot and she looks like she’s going to try to hug him. But Angel is quick, and he’s smarter than people give him credit for.

With one arm already around me, he moves so both arms encircle me, and his shoulder is ready to intervene should she try to make contact.

The woman has no choice but to halt in her tracks. And I exhale slowly.

“Ah, well, hello again, Angel,” she says, stopping her attempt to hug my man. “This your date? Hello, I’m Giovanna.”

“Hello Giovanna,” Angel says, but his tone is cool. “This is my?—”

“I’m Giselle,” I say, interrupting whatever he was about to say.

I know it’s silly, but hearing him say the word friend, or even girlfriend, right now might actually make me cry.

I know, I know.

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