Page 11 of The Mobster's Angel

She smiles, and it’s even more beautiful than in my dreams.

Her lashes flutter open. Barely. But then she spots the item that I rescued from the Rossi’s Mercedes and lets out a small cry of delight.

“Your book! I was kicking myself for forgetting it in the car.”

“Of course, angel. I still want to discover what you thought of it.”

I lean over and brush one of the honey curls from her face, needing to find out how soft her skin is. I can’t even help myself—I’ve thought about doing it so many times.

“You said you would explain everything. I tried to stay awake for you, but I must have drifted off.”

“That’s all right,” I tell her. “It’s been a long day. We can talk in the morning.”

She closes her eyes while she nods. I like her like this. Surrounded by thick white bedsheets, blonde hair flowing across the pillows. There’s something even more pure about her. Vulnerable. But not in a way that I’d ever want to take advantage of. No, her vulnerability draws me to her because I know the evils of this world all too well. I thought that meant she could never be for me, but now I think I might be the best thing for her.

Who else better to protect her from all the evil shit in the world than me?

I bend down toward her, placing a kiss on her silky soft cheek and lingering a second to breathe her in. She smells like strawberries and fresh cream, which is the scent of all the soaps and lotions I left in the bathroom. “I’ll keep you safe, little angel.”

I pull back and am about to tell her goodnight when she opens her eyes.

“You really mean that?”

I smile at her. “I do.”

She sits up on her elbows, and now I’m kicking myself for coming in here and disturbing her sleep. Stupid bastard.

“Why?”

There’s that question again.

I successfully fobbed her off in the courtyard earlier. I told her I would explain everything, and I do intend to do that.

But I don’t want to scare her away.

Not when she seems to have fallen into my arms like a gift from whatever is up there that hasn’t yet abandoned me.

“Tomorrow,” I tell her.

I can overthink the hell out of my answer tonight.

She shakes her head. “Not tomorrow. Now.”

There’s something in her eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and I can’t read it. I have no idea what it is, but it wasn’t there when I met her before.

I swallow down the lump in my throat as my heart starts banging loudly in my ears.

I’m not good with words. Only actions.

If only I could show her what I wanted to say.

Stop being a little pussy, Jack. She’s already yours. Take her.

I bend down and her eyes dart around my face before going out of my focus. Gently, so fucking gently, I brush my lips across hers. She inhales a sharp breath as I retreat a few inches, her eyes now closed.

When she opens them, whatever was there in her eyes before is more obvious now, but I still can’t tell what it is. She’s like a closed book, and all I want to do is open it and see what’s inside. But I know myself. I’m too heavy-handed. What if opening that book tears the pages?

She parts her lips, showing me a flash of her perfect white teeth. A sound escapes her mouth, the softest giggle.

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