Page 14 of Never Fall for an Angel

“How the fuck do you get this shit off?” I grumble, and she laughs when the makeup just smears like fucking molasses. Why do women bother with this shit? “Industrial cleaner?”

I laugh with her because I can’t help myself and know she won’t remember this in the morning. I’ve never done this shit before, but I know enough that sending her to bed with a face full of makeup is a woman’s nightmare. I’ve also never put Mila to bed before, but there’s a first time for every obsession.

“Makeup remover,” she slurs, her heavy gray eyes opening to meet mine.

Fuck, those eyes . . .

All the while I’m cleaning her up, her hands are sliding up my button-up, over the ridges of my abs, before slipping higher. My cock protests when I continue to ignore it and gently pull her hand away.

“Mila,” I warn, and she lets out a breathy sound close to a hum.

That’s also new.

“Christian,” she breathes, blinking up at me, and the air between us hums. She tugs at my hand, but I hold her wrist in mine, refusing to let her go.

She’s just drunk and horny. She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing. I mean, this is Mila. Young and innocent. Sweet with her soft heart and even softer soul.

In an act of defiance, she stands up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine, and a deep groan rumbles up my chest.

Fucking hell.

Why the fuck did I decide I needed to take care of her tonight?

“Why won’t you kiss me?” she asks, falling back with a frown. My cock is so fucking hard it hurts, pressing against the zipper of my slacks.

The asshole in me says to do it. Kiss her back and let her have what she wants. The idiotic gentleman in my head tells me to do what I came here to do. Stick to the plan.

Unfortunately, the plan doesn’t involve little twenty-one-year-old Mila Carpenter.

“Because you are way too drunk, and I am way too old for you.”

“I’m twenty-one,” she argues, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Despite everything in my head telling me to get the fuck out, my hand has other ideas, lifting to tug her bottom lip from between her teeth.

So fucking soft.

“I’m twenty-eight.”

She rolls her eyes, tugging from my grasp.

Roll your eyes again, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you don’t stop.

“You know what I think?” she asks when I reach for her hairbrush.

“I’d love to hear it,” I murmur sarcastically.

Really, the only thing on my mind right now is the thought of burying my face between her thighs until they tighten around my head, and she’s screaming my name, but I ignore it.

“I think you’re afraid to care about people,” she mumbles, her eyes holding a challenge.

I know what she’s doing. Egging me on. It’s working, but I won’t act on it. Not with her. I mean, this is Mila, for Christ’s sake. She’s too sweet. Too innocent for a man like me. She hasn’t experienced the world and all it has to offer yet.

But fuck if the idea isn’t there, taking hold like poison ivy on a fallen log.

“You care more than you like to let on. I think you’re just afraid to get too close to me,” she continues, and the little thread holding my patience snaps.

Sinking forward, I press the front of my body against hers, my hands on the counter on either side of her, my cock digging into her stomach. I lean into her, my lips hovering over hers, but I don’t kiss her. When she leans up, attempting to close the distance between us, I back up, just out of her reach.

“Is this close enough for you, little devil?”

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