“You wouldn’t want to go out in this anyway,” I say to him, picking him up and carrying him to the window. He yowls angrily and twists out of my grasp, so I barely have a chance to bend and deposit him before he streaks away and under the bed, hissing at me angrily.
“Damn,” Angel says. “He’s pissier than Heath and your brother combined.”
“Did you tell the others?” I ask.
He nods. “We don’t do secrets. But none of them are pissed either. Just surprised. And maybe a little impressed.”
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath and squeezing my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. I don’t know what I’d have done if I lost it all now, when I’m so close.
“I mean, I saw you fight the Sinners a couple times,” he says. “I knew you weren’t helpless. Just didn’t expect you to have a whole-ass life with a secret identity off campus.”
“It’s not that big a deal,” I insist. “I took classes, and then I realized that what you learn in a studio is never going to prepare you for a real fight. So I found some real fights, so I could apply it to the real world, if I ever needed to. And it’s a good thing I did, considering all the fights I’ve already been in this year.”
“Speaking of… You gonna go visit Heath?”
“Yeah, I keep meaning to…”
“You can’t avoid him forever,” he points out. “The longer you wait to apologize, the more hurt he’s going to be.”
“How can I apologize?” I ask, wheeling on him. “I got him shot!”
“Exactly why you should be apologizing.”
“He’ll never forgive me.”
“He will,” he says. “You just have to set aside your pride and ask.”
I take a breath and face him squarely. “I can’t ask Heath to forgive me. I’m not even sure he’s forgiven me for before. I know he’s your friend, and we’re… Whatever…”
“Aww, are you asking if I’m your boyfriend?” Angel asks, a huge grin breaking over his face.
“No,” I protest, scowling. “…Maybe.”
“I’ll be anything you want me to be, baby girl,” he says, striding over and picking me up, boosting me so his hands are clamped on the back of my thighs and my head is above his. I wrap my arms around his neck and lean down to kiss him tentatively.
I’ve never gotten to do this—not really. Most of my experiences have been initiated or instructed by someone else. They’ve pushed me past my limits until I found new ones, thenbulldozed those ones too. I’ve never gotten to kiss someone simply because I want to, never let myself have this thing that I thought was a sin and beyond my reach.
“Even though I’m just a number to you?” I whisper, my heart breaking all over again when I remember his casual cruelty after our first time together.
“Number one,” he says, letting my body slide down a few inches, so we’re nose to nose. “You’ve always been number one for me, M. Always.”
He lowers me onto the bed, his mouth finding mine again, his hand slipping under my skirt. His fingers are cold from outside, and I gasp when they skim up my inner thighs, tracing the seam of my lips through my underwear. I shiver, but heat pulses in my core. Angel’s tongue sweeps over mine in a dominant, skillful rhythm that has me wet and whimpering in moments. He tugs my panties aside and slips a finger underneath. He plays with my entrance for a minute, until I break the kiss.
“Please,” I gasp out, and he answers by drawing back to watch my face as he pushes his finger into me so hard and deep that my entire body rocks on the bed.
I grip his shoulders, panting with need. “Tell me what you are,” he growls.
“Your girlfriend.”
He works in another finger, sliding both of them out and then back in just as deep. I moan with pleasure, and he does it again. “And whose pretty little pussy is this?”
“Yours,” I cry, opening my legs for him.
“Good little lamb,” he says, adding another finger. “Now tell me who gets to play with it?”
“You,” I manage, gasping at the painful stretch as he pushes his fingers as deep as they’ll go, straining against my walls.
“Who else?”
