Page 62 of Never Fall for an Angel

“Why did you shoot me?”

My stomach drops to my toes.

“You said I could ask a question.”

“I never said I’d answer.”

“I have a right to know.” I grit my teeth, smacking my hand on the top of the table at the rush of anger that surges through me. I’m sick and tired of everyone hiding things from me. “I waited for you for three months and you never called. Never showed. You completely ghosted me.”

I can stop the tears welling in my eyes any more than I can stop the pain that threatens to rip me in half.

“Fine,” he murmurs, so dark a shiver runs down my spine. When I meet his gaze, itburns. “You want to know what happened?”

“Yeah,” I stutter, forcing my chin up. “I do.”

He chuckles darkly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Using you to get closer to Parker was the easiest route. You were starving for attention. You needed someone to make you feel safe. Wanted. I played the part because it got me closer tothe target, and you got a little piece of yourself you felt was missing.”

Something sickening slips through my veins. A bitter embarrassment that I ever thought he cared. Everything I’ve always silently thought to myself after he left. Every time I blamed myself for his departure . . . it’s all true.

“Satisfied?” he asks, his chair dragging against the floor with a screech as he gets up, slamming the front door behind him without another look back.

“Chris-tian.”

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, the sound muffled by my thighs on either side of his head. His tongue slips through my folds, milking the orgasm that sent electric zaps down my spine. His hands hold my hips, his eyes darkly amused while he watches me try to catch my breath.

It’s been three months of this . . . torture.

Every day, it’s the same. He comes to my room, catches me in the pool house, when we’re alone in the car together . . . He always makes me come. Whether it’s from his tongue or his fingers, it always ends with me gasping out his name and a panting wet mess before he kisses me until my lips are sore.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean he fucks me.

Christian’s never let me touch him. Any time I try to wrap my hand around his cock and push him past the boundaries he’s set for us, he breaks away, and the moment is over.

I can’t help but feel like something is wrong with me because he never lets it go further than just my orgasm.

Still, as one-sided as this is, it never stops me from allowing him to do it again.

“Fuck, look how pretty you are,” he groans, the deep rumble slipping through my body and going right to my core.

Slipping back up my body, his lips capture mine, kissing me deeply. I whimper into his mouth, wrapping my arms around him when he settles back into the pillows beside me.

“It’s raining,” I point out, still breathless. He looks to the open hatch in the back of the SUV, watching the steady fall of the raindrops outside.

“I like the rain,” he murmurs, his arm under my head. He pulls me closer to him, my legs intertwined with his, and presses his lips to my forehead.

“What about thunder?”

He pulls back, deep blue gaze searching mine. He’s turned the back of the SUV into a makeshift bed, complete with blankets and pillows.

The back is open, overlooking the valley below as March brings about warmer weather.

Honestly, looking up at him, I find I never want to leave. If I could freeze time and live in just this moment, I would.

“Storms are the earth’s way of cleansing itself.” He shrugs. “That’s what my mother used to say.” He pauses, studying my face. For what, I don’t know. “What’s on your mind, little devil?”

I suck in a deep breath, mulling the answer over in my head. “Just wondering when all this is going to end.”

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