Page 29 of Lips of an Angel

That’s not it.

Please come downstairs.

You don’t even have to do anything.

“So you just want me to sit and look pretty?”

Isn’t that your area of expertise?

He sighed. “Okay. I’m on my way down.”

The telltale squeak of our apartment door echoed down the stairs, and I made sure to keep the call connected until I heard his heavy footsteps.

Raleigh appeared and smiled, and all of my fears vanished. His hair was disheveled, but what else was new? That was the only setting his hair had. He wore nothing but a skimpy tank top and a pair of sweats. Years of practice kept my gaze on his face, but that didn’t mean my eyes didn’t want to wander. He grabbed a stool from the bar and flipped it upright, then patted the seat with his tattooed hand. The rings on his hands smackedagainst the leather. Ignoring the naughty image the sound formed in my mind, I trudged across the room and sat myself on the stool.

“Stay there,” Raleigh instructed.

As if I wanted to be anywhere else. He’d parked me in a spot that provided the perfect view of his glorious ass in those sweats. Raleigh dutifully ducked behind each bar, checking for anyone lurking in the darkness. He went into the bathrooms, checking each stall, then relocking them behind him. I wasn’t sure exactlywhoI thought was hiding in the building. A murderer, a generic psychopath—a killer clown, maybe? I couldn’t rationalize my fears, not even to myself. Anxiety wasn’t alwaysrational. Sometimes all I needed to hear was that everything would be okay.

I was holding my breath when Raleigh reappeared from the kitchen, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “There’s no one here, Angel.”

His presence brought me comfort, but my skin still prickled, the hair on my body standing on end.

That’s when Raleigh’s large hand found mine, and his steady confidence washed over me, my powers accepting his feelings as my own. The vine tattoos winding around his fingers flexed when he squeezed, and the roses climbing his arm danced as the veins popped with his movement. The pressure on my hand pulled me back to the present. My powers, satisfied we weren’t in danger, begrudgingly fell back asleep.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Feeling better, I didn’t protest. I would do whatever I needed to keep Raleigh’s hand in mine. It wasn’t the first time he’d slipped our fingers together—not even close—but every time, my silly little crush grew more intense.

Raleigh dropped my hand and moved for the stairs. His presence beckoned me like a siren, and like a lovesick fool, I followed it. We turned off the lights in the bar, and I fought the urge to look over my shoulder at the dark, haunting space. Nightmare fuel; nothing good ever came of it. Raleigh squeezed my hand again, and the urge vanished as quickly as it came. We paused long enough to lock the door at the bottom of the steps, and continued to our apartment.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I silenced it with my free hand without taking it out. Eli hadn’t answered my texts all day. We’d parted on good terms, hadn’t we? I couldn’t imagine what there could possibly be to talk about.

Better to ignore it for now.

Both of our jobs were demanding, albeit in different ways. Eli switched departments a lot and lately, our shifts hadn’t been lining up. We kept missing each other. Some nights he’d crawl into my bed, but he would always slip out when he thought I was asleep. When I had time to see him, he needed to sleep between shifts. He’d been on a difficult rotation—trauma—and needed to rest whenever he could get it.

Raleigh led me into the apartment and lowered himself onto the kitchen floor. Instead of sitting next to him, I sat cross-legged in front of him and accepted the bottle of tequila he passed my way.

“Do you remember that night I gave you your first kiss?”

I nodded, smiling fondly. I remembered that night often. I was fourteen, Raleigh had just turned fifteen. It would be a while before I realized that what I felt was love, but that night taught me something that hadn’t changed over the years: I’d had a taste of Raleigh and now, I was a hopeless addict.

* * *

“What if hewants to kiss me at the end of the night?”

“Do you want him to kiss you?”

Not as much as I wanted the guy sitting across the bed from me to.

“Yes,” I lied.

“Then let him!”

Raleigh went to my closet and flipped through the hangers. I was going on my first date, with a sixteen-year-old from another school. We’d met at a football game, and I let him stamp a gentle kiss to my cheek as the home team scored the winning touchdown. I’d been too nervous to let him do anything else, but when he asked to take me to a movie, I agreed.

I regretted that decision.

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