Page 70 of Never Fall for an Angel

I push the needle through the torn flesh, and Mila lets out a soft breath through parted lips. I don’t look up at her, keeping my hold steady and place the first stitch.

“I’m sorry, too . . .” Mila says after a beat, and the urge to tug her into my lap just to fucking hold her burns in my chest.

I can’t, though. I fucking can’t because that option was taken from us.

When I place the third and final stitch, neither of us moves for a moment, save for me cleaning the blood from her wounds.

“Where did you learn to give stitches?” Mila asks quietly, watching me clean the drying blood from her skin with the rag. The rest of the wounds aren’t as deep and have already started healing.

“My mother,” I reply, voice huskier than before. “She was a nurse.”

“You’ve never spoken about your mother to me before.”

I grit my teeth, wrapping her hand in a layer of gauze to keep the stitches from getting caught.

“You never asked.”

She’s silent for a moment, nibbling on her bottom lip. If I could touch her, I’d pull it away from her with my own and then wipe the worry off her face with a brush of my tongue.

Because I can’t, though, I’m forced to watch her worry herself to death.

“She died,” I murmur. I don’t know why the fuck I’m telling her this. I don’t speak about my mother with anyone. Something forces me to, though, and I’m betting it’s the little voice in the back of my head that always says stupid shit when Mila’s around.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, her hand brushing against mine where a scar runs through an ace of spades on my wrist. “I guess we’re more alike than we thought.”

Her father. He died before she was old enough to remember him, yet I know that’s not why she’s sad. She’s sad for me. And I don’t deserve it.

Gently as I can, I reach up, capturing a drying tear on her cheek with my thumb. Her eyes widen for a moment, but for the first time since I brought her here, she doesn’t shrink away from me.

Instead, she leans closer, her breathing heavier, and her eyes soften to a look that both hits me right in the fucking chest and aches in my cock at the same time.

“What do you want, Mila?” I ask, my voice quiet. Barely audible over my own breathing mixed with hers.

“I want . . .” she pauses, her eyes half-lidded and hazy in the dim light overhead. My dick pulses in my jeans when her tongue darts out to lick her lips, my mind running through every possible scenario of how this could end, but knowing none of them end with her in my arms again.

That ship hasn’t just sailed, it’s fucking sunk.

But . . . with her pretty gray eyes filled with something warm and thick, our breathing heavy in the air between us, and her soft hand in mine, it’s easy to forget.

Her fingers close around mine and her breath hitches when mine dance across her knee. She doesn’t push me away, and for the first time since I brought her here, there’s no panic in her gaze at the touch of another person.

“I want you to keep touching me,” she whispers, almost like it’s a question.

I tug her towards me until she’s inches away, and her breath catches, her eyes widening with a split second of fear before it’s replaced with something else.

We’ve been tiptoeing around each other on this island, and it’s getting to my head.

Her lips hover over mine, and the scent of her honey and vanilla washes over me, stealing my breath and making my cock throb in my jeans.

It’s that split second of fear, though, and the uncertainty in her gaze that prevents me from moving further.

Finally, I force myself to release her. Then, I force myself to ignore the dull ache in my chest and stand from my chair.

Fuck, Iforcemyself not to think about the fact that while she may have blood on her hands, mine are too dirty to even touch her.

She doesn’t belong in my world any more than I belong in hers, yet . . . I can’t say the idea isn’t fucking tempting, nor that the thought of her disappearing again doesn’t make something dark and twisted growl in the back of my head.

“Go get cleaned up,” I murmur, standing from the chair before I can do something stupid. I head towards the door, gritting my teeth at the bitterness burning through my veins. “I’ll get the dog.”

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