Page 48 of Pitiful Lies

But he just narrows his eyes and pulls me tight against his body.

“No one guards this body but me,” he states, and his voice sounds like he just swallowed a handful of gravel.

Holy hotness.

“Now look, I can’t just let you go off and risk you getting hurt. So yeah, you’re gonna stay right fucking here, Koukla. With me.”

“Angel I can’t?—”

“It ain’t up for discussion. This is the only way I can keep you safe, understand? Now, I know we have a lot to talk about, but let’s start by getting one thing clear. You are not my fuck buddy,” he pauses and if it is for effect, then he’s succeeded.

But what does he mean? Does he mean he doesn’t want to fuck me?

That I am something else to him.

Something less.

His chest rumbles again and I swear it goes right to my needy little core. I squeeze my thighs together, and he inhales.

Oh my God. Can he smell my need?

I shake off that insane thought. Blame it on too many paranormal romance books courtesy of my bestie. Anna and Maria both are quite the avid readers, and they got me addicted to all the smutty goodness.

But Angel is no romance hero, and this isn’t a fucking story. It’s my life. And it’s important.

“Then what am I?” I find the courage to ask.

“I thought you knew,” he murmurs.

I shake my head, and his impossibly pale eyes roam over me from head to toe like hands. I bite back my moan.

“What are you, Little Doll? You. Are. Mine.”

Angel seems to punctuate each word with a pause. By the time he is finished speaking, he is growling the words, not just saying them.

His chest is heaving, and his hands are holding me so tight, they’re likely to leave bruises. And it’s turning me on so hard.

So fucking hot.

My panties are soaked and all I can think about is how good he made me feel in that hotel room yesterday morning.

“Goddamn it. Look at you,” he says, and I’m stunned beyond words at this point.

“Standing there so defiantly. Your breasts jiggling with every breath you take, tempting me to sin.”

I stiffen and he just grins at me. The bastard.

“Oh, I can see it on your face, Koukla. You want to slap me? Go ahead. Do it,”

This time, I am the one tempted. But I don’t. His words have me circling the edge, and it’s too much to even imagine touching him at this point.

“You’re trying to deny this, to deny us. But I know you want me like I want you. And I’m not a good enough man to deny us both a shot at pleasure,” he says and bends down, claiming my mouth in a kiss that’s punishing in its brutality.

I moan. I can’t help it. Angel’s kisses rip me open. They leave me bare and completely naked. The truth of my desire is right there in my response.

There is no hiding it anymore. It’s like a living thing, and it can’t be tamed or stopped.

It just keeps growing and growing until I’m no longer in control of my own actions.

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