Page 110 of Never Fall for an Angel

“I’m good,” I whisper, and a smile tugs at the corners of my lips.

Christian runs the back of his knuckles down my face, a smile pulling on his lips, and for once, this feels normal.

Wefeel normal for the first time ever.

“I’ve got a phone call to make, and then I’ll be down for dinner, okay?”

“Who called?” I ask when he pulls back and helps me stand. My legs are wobbly when he stoops down to slip my jeans back up my legs.

“Rudy,” he murmurs, and something about the way he says it and the fact that he won’t look me in the eyes tells me it’s a lie.

Why would he lie about who’s calling him?

“What would Rudy want?”

“Probably to talk about that damned boat,” he grunts.

“Are you—”

He silences me by tugging my hand, forcing my body to his. He presses a kiss to the corner of my lips, and the silence stretches between us as we breathe each other’s air for a moment too long.

I want to kiss him.

God,do I want to kiss him?

I can’t, though. Kissing Christian would open up the door for those feelings I’m desperately trying to keep at bay. Kissing is a lover’s game, and he’s already made it clear we will never be that again.

Eventually, he’s going to use me for his revenge. Whatever that revenge may be, what’s happening between us is transient.

Until then, I’ll use him to get myself back.

I step back, my head spinning from lack of breathing.

“I’ll go start dinner.”

“You . . . don’t have to sleep out here.”

Christian pauses as he sets up the couch for the night, his eyes flicking to where I stand at the foot of the stairs.

God, why do his eyes feel like stepping naked into the center of a crowded football stadium?

“I just meant . . .” Fuck, what did I mean? “You can sleep in the bed if you’d be more comfortable.”

Inviting Christian to sleep with me—actual sleep—sounds like a worse idea than reusable toilet paper, but I hate sleeping in the big bed by myself, knowing he’s out here cramped on the couch.

He stares at me for a beat, and the air hums in the silence stretching between us.

Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.

“I’m closer to the door,” he murmurs finally, and embarrassment floods through me like hot tar.

Way to go, Mila.

“Right,” I nod, forcing a smile on my ever-burning cheeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

I hurry upstairs before he can see the bitterness coursing through me and practically swaddle myself in the blankets as if they can hide me from the weight of my actions.

Why would he want to sleep with me? Why would I even ask such a question?

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