Page 32 of Never Fall for an Angel

“I . . .I . . .” the words get caught in my throat, and before I can release them, my entire body seizes with the force of the pleasure rippling through me. “Christian,” I moan into his mouth while he spills inside me with a rough growl.

The moment we both float back down to earth, I lean my forehead against his, and he wraps his arms around me, falling back on the blanket and holding me to his chest.

I wish, for a moment, that we could stay like this forever. Completely intertwined. Unable to discern where one of us begins and the other ends, but I know, eventually, this will end.

“I’m here, Mila,” he says so quietly I barely register that he’d spoken. “Do you trust me?”

Raising my head to meet his gaze, he stares back at me with a look in his eyes I can’t process.

“Always.”

The problem with clandestine love affairs is, eventually, someone gets hurt. Usually, the person who’s more invested, and I’m afraid, judging by the warmth permeating through my veins, that person is me.

MILA

It’s been one week, six hours, and thirteen minutes since I’ve heard from Christian.

Not that I’m counting or anything.

Mom says he had some family business to attend to, but she doesn’t know anything else. After that night on the beach, he kissed me until I was panting and took me home. We snuck in, and he held me in my bed until I fell asleep, wrapped in his arms.

He was so . . . gentle. Like he was worried he was going to break me.

As I’m fragile.

Looking back, I can’t stop the sinking feeling in my gut. It’s like there’s a pit where he was, and now it’s swallowing me whole. I’m worried. He’s nevernotanswered me before. Even when he was just a guard.

I’ve tried calling. They all go straight to voicemail. I’ve tried texting him, but the messages go unread. It’s like he’s a ghost, and I’m the unlucky woman who is unfortunate enough to be in love with him.

“Right here,” I tell Tomas, our new driver. He’s young, but I haven’t spoken to him much in the past few months he’s been working with us. Christian took me anywhere I needed to go.

Of course, he was also making me come on most of those trips, but that’s beside the point.

Tomas pulls to a stop in front of the apartment building, standing tall against the clear blue skies. It’s only April, but the weather is warm today, and I took advantage of it by wearing the sundress I know he likes and my hair loose with my natural curls.

“I’ll wait right here, Ms. Mila.”

“Thank you, Tomas. It’ll only be a moment. I’ll text you if anything changes.”

He nods, gaze trained on the road ahead. I climb out of the back of the Bently, pulling the key Christian had given me out of my purse and heading through the front doors.

The front desk clerk smiles at me as I pass but makes no move to hang up on her phone call, so I don’t bother. I’ve been here enough times now that they don’t question me when I enter the building. I take the elevator, my heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest all the way to the sixth floor.

I guess a part of me is hoping that he’s up there in his apartment. The other half is dreading the knowledge that he’s just avoiding me if he is.

Does he regret . . . us? Did he have second thoughts? Saliva pools in my mouth, nausea bubbling in my stomach at the thought.

Maybe he thinks I’m just another clingy virgin, pining after him because he was my first.

Bitter tears sting in the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to allow them any further.

I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this. Christian Cross doesn’t just up and disappear.

Stepping off the elevator, my heartbeat grows louder with every step toward his door. I stop in front of it, doing the polite thing and knocking.

No answer.

I try knocking again after a few moments, but not even a shuffle comes from the other side.

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