Page 68 of Desiring an Angel

Impulsive.

Not like me at all.

I didn’t step forward without plotting first, but something in that moment had felt too right, too enticing to consider fully. Rushing forward in my horniness without thoughts of consequence had left us sated, but what sort of emotional connection had I inadvertently allowed to settle into place between the two of them?

Skylar had watched Ash like she was half in love with him already while we had eaten breakfast, and he did the same with her. I caught her gaze flitting my way dozens of times, and I recognized her longing for what it was, but she just…didn’t fit into the plans I’d laid for our lives.

Stubborn was my middle name, but I clutched to my damn self-preservation same as I did to the coldness instilled in me from childhood to keep emotion under wraps.

Fortitude.

Endurance.

Being unmoved in the face of danger—emotional or otherwise.

“Damn control freak.” I rubbed over my scruffy jawline, knowing I had to let go, but how? Stoicism had been ingrained in my bone marrow.

I wasn’t aware of any other way, and giving into feelings would be nothing but weakness.

Being unable to set a course or figure out the puzzle of myself brought on a goddamn headache. I made it through the rest of the work day, barely able to withhold a scowl from etching into my facial muscles.

I needed the silence of my home, the comfort of Ash’s body, but I expected I wouldn’t have either because of our houseguest.

Pop music blared from the house’s sound system when I let myself into the kitchen.

Savory scents flooded my nose, but it was the noise level and the sight on the far side of the kitchen that pulled me to a halt at the threshold.

Ash and Skylar danced around as if they were a couple of teenagers drunk on Boon’s.

The running man.

The sprinkler.

Ash attempted a…was that a twerk? The man had one fine as fuck ass, but he sure couldn’t shimmy it around.

I burst out laughing—and both jolted to a stop, gazes flying my way. Skylar’s face went red, but Ash’s grin widened.

“Come dance!” he called while spinning around and beckoning with his fingers.

I shook my head, willed my smile away, and put my bag on the countertop.

“Oh shit! Dinner!” Skylar hurried to the oven and pulled it open.

The scent of beef swarmed over me, turning my saliva glands the fuck on.

“Is that—”

“Beef Wellington, yes.” She set the roasting pan atop the oven, and I crept closer for another sniff as the music shut off around us. “Ash said it was your favorite. And potatoes dauphinoise made with Gruyere and roasted brussels.”

My mouth fucking watered. I swallowed. “Wine?”

“Bordeaux, of course.”

She gently cupped my cheek, her smile dazzling—drawing me in like a siren and coiling tension in my muscles—

A soft giggle, and she moved off before I could crush my mouth to hers.

Goddamn. I stared in silence as Skylar did her thing, flitting around the kitchen like a beautiful fairy, all swaying hips and unbound breasts beneath her sundress causing my blood to race.

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