Page 20 of Dead Bled Ringer
“You don’t even care about me,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Well, shit, what would Henry say to that?
“Yes, I do,” I insisted.
“Well, then, what do you like about me?” Angel demanded.
“Everything,” I said, then hastily adding “bitch,” so I wouldn’t give myself away.
She gnawed on her lip for a minute, then with a little flash, she reached down and grabbed one of the cafe chairs and swung it at my head.
I caught the chair easily, feeling adrenaline pulse in my veins.
“I’ll never come back to you!” she cried, and her face was almost gleeful as she wiggled her tongue at me. “Never and you can’t make me!”
Then she suddenly sprinted into the kitchen.
My blood pounded like feral heat through my veins, and I gave chase.
It was way too fucking hot to see Angel running away from me, knowing she could only get as far away as I let her.
Bursting through the door, I was confronted with the delicious smells of sugar and spice as she threw a fistful of cookie dough at me.
“Don’t be a brat,” I said, but she instantly whirled around and picked up one of the heavy butcher knives lying on the prep station.
“Get back!”
“Angelise Santerre,” I gritted out. “Put that down. You are going to hurt yourself.”
“Make me,” she said.
What if she went too fast and slipped? That knife looked sharp as fuck!
Holding my hands out, I advanced carefully on her, adrenaline racing through me.
“Put it down,” I ordered again, but Angel only danced away from me.
Pure panic washed over me in terrifying waves, my entire body instantly slick with sweat.
If anything happened to her. . . she didn’t know it, but it would absolutely destroy me.
Angel made a little lunge with the knife, and I didn’t blame her at all for wanting to stab my brother, but I couldn’t let her miss and possibly hurt herself, so I darted forward and wrenched on her wrist with my much stronger grip so she was forced to loosen her hold.
I ripped the knife away but as I did, Angel grabbed for it, and managed to cut a neat little slice across her delicate fingers.
She looked down in shock at the tips of her fingers, instantly scarlet-red with blood, and I pulled out one of the kitchen’s clean white towels and wrapped it around her hand, holding it tightly to stop the bleeding.
It wasn’t a very deep cut, but I was still furious.
“You could have gotten yourself killed!” I barked, giving her a little shake.
She didn’t seem abashed at all, struggling in my arms, forcing me to hold her tightly to prevent her from escaping.
“I’m not going to let you go until you agree to calm down,” I warned, putting my legs on either side of her and tightening my thighs until she was trapped.
Her ass was wiggling deliciously in front of me, and I couldn’t help some devil in me giving it a healthy slap.
She almost jumped out of her skin, yelping with surprise, but the way she caught her breath made me throw her over my lap and do it again.
