Page 208 of Never Fall for an Angel

I grin. “Did I?”

She jerks her hand back at the new SUV. “What is that?”

I step up behind her, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “It’s yours.”

“What?” she jumps, spinning around to face me, her eyes wide and her cheeks red. “You didnotbuy me a car.”

“Of course I did.”

“I can’t accept this,” she shakes her head, attempting to back away from me—key word, attempting. I don’t let her, only pulling her closer until her front rests against mine. I walk her backward until her until her ass is pressed against the hood of her new SUV.

“Of course, you can. You’re my wife. My money is your money. Which brings me to my next point.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out the new card attached to our account.

“This is fast,” she whispers.

I fix her with a look. “You’ve been mine for years.”

I grip her ass and lift her to the hood to bring her closer to eye level with me.

“It’s too expensive,” she winces, and if she didn’t look so damned sweet, I’d spank her ass for not seeing the value in her that I do.

The money is easy. I can come by more whenever I want.

Her, though . . . She’s fucking irreplaceable.

“Mila—”

“Christian, I’m serious,” she frowns when I take her face in my hands, forcing her gaze to mine.

Her pretty grey eyes are filled with guilt as if the money I spent on the new SUV could have solved world hunger.

“So am I.” Dread, hope, or maybe even a bit of both makes my chest tight. I can’t tell which. They both feel the fucking same.“I need you safe, Mila.” I search her face, feeling her heartbeat racing under my fingertips when they slip down her throat. “With your new job at the lodge, I don’t want you walking there on your own.”

My chest grows tight when I pull back and take the last gift I have for her from my pocket, holding it up for her.

Her eyes go wide when she sees the phone in my hand.

“I don’t want that.”

“Mila—”

“We nearly divorced because of a phone only a few weeks ago, and now you’re giving me another one?”

“This one isn’t traceable.” I hold it out for her, and tentatively, she takes it. “I don’t want you to feel trapped, Mila. And I don’t want to keep you from your family.”

Her eyes widen, and her lips part over a quiet breath.

“Besides,” I drop my hands, running them up her bare thighs to part them. Stepping inside them, my cock aches with her warmth pressed against me. “I want to spoil my wife, and it’s time for you to accept that that’s what you are.”

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes half-lidded and hazy as she stares up at me. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes soft and full of apprehension and desire. Like she needs me as badly as I need her, and that concerns her.

Leaning forward, I run my tongue along the seam where her teeth dig into her lip, capturing it with my own and tugging it free. She lets me slip my tongue into her mouth, dancing it across hers and tasting the mint of toothpaste on her breath.

A quiet growl slips up my throat, rumbling through my chest, and finally, she opens for me, letting me in. Lazily, her arms come around my neck, her legs around my hips, and she kisses me back.

I’ve never given much of a fuck about kissing. Kissing my wife, though . . . fucking hell. Her lips may as well be laced with fucking heroin.

My hands slip into her hair, angling her head to where I want her, and the blunt ends of her nails scrape along the back of my neck, pulling me closer, her soft whimper in my mouth.

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