Page 227 of Never Fall for an Angel

Reaching back to the little stereo under the kitchen cupboard, I cut it on, and the soft sound of music floats through the air, the singer’s voice filling the room.

Christian stares up at me, his gaze dark when I place my hand on his chest, pushing him back until he plops down in the kitchen chair in front of me.

“You pissed me off earlier,” I murmur when his hand catches my thigh. Amusement lights in his gaze for a brief moment before he downs the entire glass of whiskey and pulls me forward.

“Is that so?” He pulls me to stand between his legs, his hands sliding up my bare thighs to the hem of my silk robe. I stop him, pushing his hands back, but he catches me, pulling me into his lap.

His hands feel so good on my skin that I almost forget all about my plan and beg him to take me to our bed. He’s been so worried about hurting me, he hasn’t fucked me since before I was stabbed.

I think I’m starting to lose my mind.

“Punishing me, little devil?”

“Something like that,” I breathe, my legs on either side of his, straddling him while his hands come up to my hips. I can feel the hard ridge of his cock in his jeans where it presses against me, and I resist the urge to grind against him.

It’s been three weeks without him and three weeks of feeling like I’m losing my mind. I never thought I would go from hating the touch ofanyoneto being starved for the touch of a single man that makes me feel like the only woman to exist in the world. Like I’m a coveted priceless artifact that he’s sworn his life to protect.

“I’ll take your punishment over your pain any day.”

I narrow my gaze, agitation winding through me.

“I’m not a child, Christian. I’ve survived far worse than a stab wound.”

“You have,” he agrees, his eyes full of something akin to pride. “You’re the strongest fucking woman I know, and that scares me.”

I scoff. “Bullshit.” Christian’s not scared of anything.

“I saw you in a coma, Mila.” His words hang heavily between us. “I saw the scars when they were fresh. I saw the stitches. Heard your screams of terror every night in your nightmares . . . you think that was easy?”

“And hiding me will only drag this out for eternity.” I suck in a breath, willing myself to calm down. If I can’t reason with him in words, I’ll use . . . other methods. “I understand your desire to keep me safe, but you also have to let me live, Christian. I can help.”

“It’s not a desire. It’s a fucking need,” he says, not moving from the chair.

God, he looks like a damn King on a throne.

“And you are helping.”

I roll my eyes. “What, by letting you fuck me?”

“By being the sole reason I live and breathe.”

My breath catches in my throat at his words.

I step away from him, but he catches me around the waist, tugging me into his lap. I fight in his hold, but he only tightens his grip, his fingers digging into my chin to force me to look at him.

“You don’t have to be anything other than what you are.”

My heart flutters in my chest when he presses his forehead to mine and sucks in a deep breath.

“Let me handle the chaos. You worry about what I’m going to do to you when I get you to my bed.”

My clit throbs at his words, heat filling me until I shudder. He chuckles low under his breath, his tongue rimming the shell of my ear.

In the silence, his phone starts vibrating on the table between us,Leviflashing across the screen.

I never knew his brother would be such a cock block.

“I have to take this,” he says, his eyes searching mine.

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