Page 16 of Pitiful Lies

“What?”

Is this guy serious?

How the hell can he just jump from discussing our past sexy times to food with no transition at all?

“Lunch, Sisi. What do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” I reply, but my stomach growls, and he just gives me a duh look.

“Fine. I don’t care. Either,” I say.

Now I’m pissed off and hungry.

“Giselle,” he says my full name, and it’s like a command.

I swear I feel it all the way to my core. But I refuse to give Angel that kind of power, so I ignore the feeling and continue with my mulish behavior. Crossing my arms, I shrug.

“I really don’t care,” I say.

Now, he pulls over to the shoulder. His unwavering stare on my face. I try to hold out. I really do.

But three minutes of that stare is all I can stand.

“Fine! BBQ,” I grumble, and he grins.

The prick.

“Good Girl,” Angel praises me for answering him, and again, my core twitches with need.

CHAPTER THREE-GISELLE

This man is completely out of my realm of experience. He is over the top in ways I have no idea what to do with. But there is one thing I can’t lie to myself about, and that is the fact that I still want him.

God help me, I really do.

“Wait for me,” he says after pulling into an empty spot outside what looks like an honest to God shack in Jacksonville.

Yah, we are still in fucking Florida. This state just never ends.

There’s a statue of a pink piglet outside of the wooden structure that looks like it will fall down if a strong wind hits it the right way.

The pig is cute, wearing an apron with a spatula in his hand, but I can’t help but think it’s a little morbid considering he’s cooking a rack of spareribs.

The delicious scent of smoky barbecue reaches my nostrils and my stomach growls again just as Angel opens the passenger door.

“Let’s get you fed, Little Doll.”

He holds out his inked up hand to me, and I take it, trying to ignore the sizzle that shoots up my spine from the seemingly platonic touch.

Of course, his words have a different meaning. I recall him saying the same thing once, but he was talking about feeding his dick to my pussy.

I squeeze my thighs together and clear my throat when I catch him watching me. I might be a lot of things, but one thing I am not is a good liar.

Angel smirks, and it’s like that bastard can feel my need for him. I pull my hand from his grip and walk ahead of him to the window so I can order my own lunch.

After I am done telling the cashier what I want, I go to pay, but Angel slaps a credit card down before I can.

How I didn’t feel his presence looming behind me, I don’t know.

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