Page 74 of Price of Angels

“You weren’t kidding when you said ‘the classics,’ huh?” He gave her one of his bare smiles. They seemed so full of life and kindness, now that she knew him better. What had once been just a twitch at the corners of his mouth now brought giddy warmth up in the pit of her stomach.

“I’ve seen some newer ones, too.Love Actually–”

He made a sound in the back of his throat.

“Hey, I like that one. AndThe Notebook–”

“Jesus Christ.”

“But my favorites,” she pressed ahead, grinning, “are the old Universal monster movies.”

That set him back. “No kidding.”

“No. I love scary movies. Monster movies. They make…” The words died in her throat. Without intending to, she’d circled back around to the past. It would never, it seemed, relinquish its hold on her. Probably because it was galloping toward her all the time.

Michael’s expression was the most unique blending of sudden softness and intense anger. The dichotomy of the man; he couldn’t seem to feel for her without hating the men she’d fled. It was all a tangle, behind his eyes. “They make you feel better,” he finished for her.

She nodded and pushed the lasagna noodles around on her plate with the tip of the fork. “Yeah. It’s nice to pretend that monsters all have fangs and teeth and claws…”

Instead of ropes and beds and bibles.

Michael’s fork stabbed at the plate with a loud metallic strike as he speared up pasta. But his voice was modulated, a clear attempt at redirecting the conversation. “Have you seenDie Hard?”

Holly gave herself a little shake. “It’s on my list.”

He nodded as he chewed and swallowed. “That needs to be remedied ASAP. You have to watchDie Hardat Christmas.”

She chuckled. “Because it’s so festive?”

“It is,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was real- or mock-serious. “We’ll watch it tomorrow.”

Her face warmed. “We will?”

“Yeah.”

Holly hadn’t expected the simple pleasure of watching him eat food she’d prepared. Of seeing him casual in his socked feet in her home like this. By the time she stood to clear the dishes, she was glowing, and didn’t care if it showed. This was world’s better than all of her imaginings.

After she’d put the leftovers in the fridge, and returned to the table to refill Michael’s drink, he caught her gently by one forearm, hand going to the cuff at her wrist. His energy had tightened and intensified; his eyes were bright when they lifted to her face.

“You cover the scars with these.” Not a question.

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

He passed his thumb over the brass snaps of the closure. “Will you take them off?”

Holly took a deep breath, and sank slowly down to her knees, so her arms rested across his lap, fingers clasped against his denim-covered thighs. “I will,” she said as she looked up at him, “if you’ll do something for me.”

She felt needlessly brave and stupid, too bold asking for anything from anyone. Who was she to deserve the consideration of a man who’d already given her so much?

But he said, “Okay.”

“Will you…” She had to dampen her lips. His eyes were so focused, full of an ungodly intensity. “Will you take your clothes off? I want to feel you this time,” she whispered.

He nodded.

Then he eased her hands away, so he could stand.

“I didn’t mean you had to…” Holly started, and then trailed off, as he reached for the hem of his shirt. God, he was going to strip down right here, and all she could do was watch, mouth going dry as she knelt on the floor in front of him.

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