Page 104 of Never Fall for an Angel

Her eyes are heavy, her lashes fluttering over her cheeks when she looks down at me in the darkness of the car. It’s nearly pitch black, save for the dash and what little light streams through the tinted windows, but she’s never looked sexier than right now, taking what she wants.

Fuck, I want to give that to her.

My hand slips up the back of her smooth calve to the pulse point just behind her knee, my fingers digging in.

She leans forward, her lips hovering over mine, and my cock presses painfully against my zipper at the taste of her. “You have until the clock strikes two to do whatever you want to me,” she breathes, her pulse fluttering.

My gaze flicks to the clock.

Three minutes.

I’ll make it fucking count.

Most men would reach for her pussy, slip their fingers inside her until she caved and stayed longer than her allotted time. This isn’t about getting her off, though. It’s about making her desperate for me. It’s about getting her addicted to me.

So, when her lips meet mine, my hands start to roam. I go for all the places I know will have her wanting more.

I kiss her rough, my tongue tangling with hers and drawing a whimper from her throat that has me gripping the backs of her thighs until I’m sure there will be bruises from my fingertips tomorrow.

Good. I want her to have a reminder that I was there.

She kisses me while I explore her body, memorizing the way it feels in my palms after so much lost time. My hands slide over her ass, then under her dress, toying with the edges of her panties. Then they slip down to her front, stroking over her inner thighs. Goosebumps rise on her flesh under my hands, and I bite back a smile against her lips when her breath hitches.

Her hands come up to my shoulders, the blunt ends of her nails scraping across the back of my neck, and a tremor rolls through me.

The kiss grows stronger when I grip her hips and roll her over my cock, just once, to let her feel me against her center. She’s so fucking warm, I can feel her through my jeans and boxers, and it takes everything in me not to fuck her right here.

“Christian,” she breathes, and I groan when she breaks the kiss, my fist tightening in her hair while I nip a line from her jaw down to her throat when she meets the next thrust of my cock.

Fucking perfection.

She lets out a desperate whimper, and her head falls back to the ceiling with a shuddering breath.

Then, as quickly as it started, it’s over.

“Times up,” she breathes, shakily climbing off my lap and practically hurling herself out the door.

I want to go after her and drag her back. I want to pin her to the bed and make her come until she tells me her secrets. Iwanther screaming my name until it raises the dead on that miserable, sunken ship just past our island.

Unfortunately, none of those things will happen tonight.

“Fuck,” I rasp under my breath, my cock aching in my jeans. I scrub a hand over my face, my gaze finding her standing at the front door, waiting for me.

I can’t keep her, but the thought is enough to have me picturing just how pretty she’d look in my bed. Coming home to her happy and smiling every night. Fucking her into the early hours of the morning and crashing with her wrapped in my arms, only to do it all over again the next day. Sounds like fucking heaven.

And also as unrealistic as a world with no crime.

Getting out of the car, I slam the door behind me, unlocking the front door while Mila heads inside without a word.

The air between us has shifted. Something tense and volatile lying just beneath the surface.

The thought of giving her up puts me in a dark mood. Like I either need to fuck her or kill someone.

There is no in-between.

I have a plan.

Is it a good one? Fuck no. In fact, it has a high probability of getting me shot.

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