Page 105 of Never Fall for an Angel

Am I going to do it anyway?

Watching her take one last glance out over the water towards where the ship lies underneath the glistening black surface, I already know the answer.

MILA

You can do this, Mila.

It’s Christian.

One foot in front of the other.

I let out a shaky breath, my hand hovering over the doorknob to the lighthouse.

Get in there, champ!

Okay, my inner pep talk is getting a little out of control.

Steeling myself, I push the door open and step inside. It’s a warm day today, and the sun is shining outside, so the first floor of the lighthouse glows.

Distracting myself, I picture what kind of furniture you could put in the circular room. Another living room? A reading nook?

Shut up, Mila.

“Fuck,” I breathe. I take the stairs up to the second floor, pausing outside Christian’s office.

The worst he can do is kick me out.

I think I’d probably pitch myself off the cliffs, but my inner monologue isn’t wrong.

Tentatively, I knock, worrying it was too soft before I hear his voice like warm dark chocolate drift through the door.

“Come in.”

A shiver rolls through me, and I twist the knob, stepping inside.

Christian sits behind his desk, closing his laptop that was open in front of him. His brow tips up, and he smirks, the look in his eyes going straight to my core.

Why does he have to look so . . . devastating?

“Miss me, little devil?”

I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans, drawing my bottom lip between my teeth. I stay back against the door while he watches with dark amusement in his gaze. I expected him to yell at me for coming up to his office when he was working, but judging by the look in his eyes, he’d been thinking about me, too.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Christian leans back in his chair when I slip the jacket off and drop it in the chair in front of his desk. He turns to face me when I approach, and somehow, this is far more terrifying than anything that’s happened in the last year.

His eyes drop to my worn sneakers, slipping up my jean-clad legs over his T-shirt, covering my breasts, before finally meetingmine. It should make me want to back out, the degradation in his gaze, but it only makes the fire burn hotter.

I clear my throat, unable to push the words out.

“You want my fingers?” He raises a brow, and delicious heat slips down my spine. I shake my head, my cheeks flaming under his heavy gaze. “My tongue?”

I shake my head again.

Why is this so hard?

“Use your words, Mila. You want me to drop everything and fuck you? That can be arranged.”

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