Page 84 of Never Fall for an Angel

“I couldn’t sleep,” I whisper finally, like the Pope is hiding around the corner to condemn me for speaking about it out loud.

Christian’s jaw feathers, his eyes never leaving mine, despite my inability to meet his gaze head-on for more than a few moments.

“How can I help?”

I chew on my bottom lip, my stomach fluttering with butterflies.

My gaze flicks to his.

“Are you horny, little devil?”

God, I should have never come down here.

“Mila.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. This was a mistake. I move to stand. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

He snatches my hand, halting me. He’s quiet for a moment, studying me, while I study the design in the armchair behind him like my life depends on it.

“Don’t be sorry for needing me.”

My gaze shoots to his. Neither of us move, my heartbeat stalling in my chest under those eyes.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

I swallow past the thick lump of embarrassment in my throat. I shift uncomfortably on the couch, the action creating enough friction between my legs to turn the low, smoldering fire into a dull roar.

I nod, biting my lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Use your words, Mila.”

Fuck.

Why do I have to use words when he can already see what I want?

“Yes,” I breathe. And then, because I feel like it needs to be said. “I’m not ready for . . .that. . . but we could try something else?”

Christian’s jaw ticks. His shoulders tight.

Time stands still, and I’m not sure either of us breathes. This changes things. Big things.

“Sit back.”

I don’t move for a long moment, but when Christian locks eyes with me, the glimmer of the fire in his eyes, it almost feels like a dare. Like he doesn’t believe I’ll actually do it.

Falling back on my ass. I sit back against the arm of the couch. Christian’s face is a mask of indifference when he slips from the couch and moves to the coffee table in front of us instead.

“You’re sure?”

Yes.

No.

“I think so.”

“I need you to be sure, Mila.”

Fuck.

---