Page 27 of Never Fall for an Angel

. . . Bigger, stronger hands that cover half my front. My hips are halted and I’m forcibly pulled back into the hard chest of the devil himself.

Fuck.

“You’re going to get someone killed.” His voice is darker than sin, his hands sliding down my hips to my thighs, pressing me closer against him until I feel his erection digging into my lower back.

So Christian Cross can’t ignore me, either?

His hands guide me to move, swaying against him to the slow, heavy beat of the music. It’s more like sex than dancing. My ass grazes his erection, and my body tightens with a newfound need.

“I thought you don’t dance?” I taunt over my shoulder, my voice breathy and soft. Pathetic.

I know what we’re doing is wrong. Any one of the other employees could see us. That’s all I need. More ammunition for them to say I’m getting special treatment. First William and now Christian.

—Just call me the whore of Babylon.

“What’s the matter, little devil? Afraid Corbin might catch you grinding on my cock?” he rasps in my ear.

I don’t even try to deny it. I am grinding against his cock. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, silencing a moan when his hands slide down my front, over my thighs, and then back up to my ribs. Like he’s memorizing every curve of my body.

“He’s just a friend,” I challenge, my voice breathier than I’d like it to be.

Christian chuckles dangerously at my words, leaning down until his breath is tickling the curls at the back of my neck.

It’s a lie. Corbin maybe my friend, but he wants so much more than that.

“Does he know that?”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.” His hands slip lower, brushing over the smooth skin of my inner thighs. A shiver rolls through me when he slips even closer, his lips at my ear and his rough stubble scraping against my skin.

“Territorial.”

My heart flutters, but something hazardous lurks beneath the surface. This high I get from what I feel with him is addictive. I can’t even hug my own mother without feeling like I’m going to be sick, yet with Christian—someone I’ve never met until he rode into my life in a shining black murder machine—Iwanthis hands on me. I want his touch. His rough words in my ear.

I want him to challenge me. In fact, I crave it.

—Just like he said I would.

“I thought you wanted Bailey?” I taunt.

He chuckles low in my ear, his lips brushing against my skin.

“Unfortunately, that spot’s reserved for her little sister.”

Against my own will, my arm comes up, wrapping around the back of his neck. His lips skate over the racing pulse in the side of my throat and I arch my neck to grant him more access, shivering when his lips brush against my skin. I find myself getting lost in the feeling of his fingers digging into my skin through my dress.

When I open my eyes, his are right there, inches away and burning with lust and something else so possessive, it steals my breath away.

As if he’s daring me to do it.

My tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip, and his eyes follow the movement, nearly black under the blue and purple lights of the club. Time hangs in the balance for a single second that seems to last a lifetime while neither of us moves.

And then, without allowing myself to think about it, I close the small distance between us, pressing my lips to his.

He doesn’t move. Even his hands stop their exploration of my body. Rejection coils through me when he doesn’t kiss me back. Swallowing, I pull away, and a low growl slips from his throat.

“Sorry,” I breathe, attempting to step away from him, but his fingers fist in my dress pinning me against him. “I—”

He pulls me back harder, locking me in place. His lips seal over mine, a rumble vibrating through his chest and into my spine. His tongue licks into my mouth, whiskey and mint on his breath.

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