Page 7 of His Angel

“Leo,” he says with a sigh. “If she really wanted to cut it off, do you think anyone could stop her?”

I shrug my shoulders, avoiding his gaze and the logic he’s trying to ply me with. “Can we talk about something else?” I grumble.

I’m so sick of talking about his brother and the beyond stupid thing he’s done. Not only has he hurt someone I care about, but he’s also taking the limelight right now, and I’m not here for that. No, I’m here for Jacob and the softness I’ve never found before.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks, his eyelids fluttering as I grip his hip points, grinding him against me.

“You didn’t tell him,” I say quietly, a vulnerability to the words that I wasn’t expecting.

I never thought he would say anything, not ot because he’s ashamed of who he is, but because he knows deep down exactly how Nick feels about me, how he’d feel about us together. His broad shoulders loom over me, blocking out any thoughts other than the man in my hands.

“I will,” he promises, rocking against me, his cock rubbing up against mine in a delicious agony that forces a rumble from my chest.

“I thought that was supposed to be a one-off, one and only, never to-be repeated performance?”

The memory of his lips against mine flashes before me, the heat of the fire at our side as the night blankets us in a secrecy we don’t need to confirm with words. Just a taste, just a touch, just making good on the promises we’ve made silently for weeks.

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs, the cutest blush I’ve ever seen creeping across his cheeks.

Leaving his hips, I trail one hand along his jaw, the other coming to the front of his shirt to drag him down against me, a surprised gasp escaping him. His fingers push the fabric of my shirt up, toying with a nipple whilst tracing patterns across my chest.

“God, you make me feel like a kid again,” I admit as his mouth hovers just inches from mine.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” he goads.

“Maybe I’m still mad at you, maybe you’ve got some making up to do.”

He kisses the corner of my mouth, placing closed-mouth kisses along my jaw before his wet tongue lathes a path to my ear, dragging the lobe with his teeth. A shiver of arousal ripples over my body and goosebumps erupt in its wake. His shirt disappears next, and mine follows swiftly after.

“What did you have in mind?” he rasps, the promise in his words worth taking him up on.

My hand slides through the hair at the back of his neck, gripping it firmly and pulling him back down to me, forcing his lips against mine. He opens eagerly, his tongue exploring my mouth as he braces his hands against my chest, finding him as hard as I am when I trace the length of him through his jeans.

Dragging him off takes more control than I thought I had, his eyes fluttering open in confusion. “Don’t you dare leave me out of this shit again, brother or not. You’d be lucky to sit for a week once I’m finished with you.”

His eyes flare, far too much excitement in them for the punishment I’m promising. Voices echo from the corridor, someone else coming or going. Tapping his hip, he climbs off me, grabbing our shirts from the floor.

“Come on.”

He intertwines our fingers, shoving his phone in his back pocket before following me out and down the hall. Luckily, we don’t cross paths with anyone else in the time it takes us to change rooms and lock the door. I’m so sick of watching and waiting, trying to tiptoe around everyone else.

Even if this is just another one-off for him, I’m going to drag out every last second of pleasure that I can from his body. Unfastening my belt, I gesture to his pants and rumble, “Take them off.”

He’s quick to follow instructions, and I can’t help but stare at the myriad of artwork along his chest. It doesn’t extend further down his body, save for the lone design on his left thigh, and he smiles as I drag my belt free and wrap it around his wrists, walking him back over to the bed and dropping the loop over the central knot of the metal headboard.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I comment as his muscles strain with the angle.

His arms bulge, his abs contract, and his dick twitches behind the constraint of his boxers.There’s more than one way to guarantee he does exactly what he’s told.

Sliding my shirt off, I pause, my gaze flicking up to his through my lashes. “Do you trust me?”

His breath hitches and his feet flex nervously. I’m not sure how far this is going to go, but I can’t go any further without his permission—I won’t.

“Yes,” he replies on an exhale.

“Safe word?”

“Watermelon.”

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