by Marie Wathen
Once the prayer ends and everyone lifts their heads, I spot her sitting in the back pew on the other side of the church. A tightening forms in my chest. My Angel. My feet stall and the world around me mutes out as I focus on every detail about her, glancing up occasionally to look toward the front of the church. Her long hair is pulled away from her face, tucked under a small black hat with a sheer veil doing absolutely nothing to hide her exquisite beauty from me. Seeing her body hunched and her hands wrapping tightly around her waist while she suffers alone is too much. A heavy banging inside my chest, coming from my wildly raging heart, echoes through my ears. My arms ache with the need to comfort her. I remain away from her for as long as I can stand it. When I see her drop her head, wiping away relentless tears and her tiny shoulders shaking with pain, I go to her.
Sliding into her pew, I wrap my arm around her back, pulling her face against my chest and cupping her jaw. The crushing pain that I have felt for three merciless days recedes immediately. At the intimate contact, her tears come harder, and I press my mouth tenderly against the spot just above her ear softly shushing. Holding her unravels a protectiveness in me that is similar to the way I felt for my siblings when our parents died. Just like I vowed to them, I do the same for her, I will never allow anyone to hurt this woman, my love, ever again. Getting her to Willow Island where she will be safe and far away from Juan, the X’kapz, and this vile world is an urgent desire.
Her body goes rigid, and she whispers, “Thank you.” A moment later, she lifts her eyes while pulling away. Fear rushes into her beautiful eyes when she realizes that I am the one silencing her tears.
Moving my fingers under her chin, I softly plead, “I’m here. Let me help you.”
A desire to fight against my offer burns obstinately in her moist eyes, and she replies, “No.” However, the weakness that tiny word carries assures me that whether she likes it or not, I’m not accepting that as an answer.
“I’m not letting you go again, doll,” I promise, bringing her warm body against mine, where she remains until after everyone leaves for the graveside services. Standing, she grabs a bag and an umbrella, which I immediately take and carry for her, and then we follow the few remaining people out the door. When we step out, they are loading the empty casket into the back of the hearse. Angel watches in heartbreaking silence, and I turn just in time to see Natalie staring at us. She offers a subtle nod before slipping into the back seat of a black limo. Angel refuses to go to the grave and then tells me that she is going to find a motel.
“No, love, you’re staying with me.” She doesn’t argue, and I escort her to my car. Once inside, I pull her into my lap, still needing the contact and comfort that holding her brings.
Torrential rain pounds down on the roof of the car, making her shiver uncontrollably. I ask the driver to adjust the temperature and soon the cab of the vehicle is soothing, and still, she doesn’t pull away. I am so damn grateful too. I am not sure that I’ll be able to release her when the time comes either. The drive to my hotel room is just this embrace, no words, no stubbornness, nothing but her soft breath brushing against my neck. The oppressive ache of separation swells within my chest, making me want to tell the driver just to keep on driving, taking her to a safe place, far away from my nightmarish world. Unfortunately, we arrive at the hotel about fifteen minutes later, and I reluctantly release her from my arms.
Inside the penthouse suite, I escort her back to the master bedroom, placing her bag on the floor. Raindrops cover the shoulders of her trench coat. Taking extra care with her injured arm, I assist her out of the wet covering. With eyes cast down, she makes a soft sniffling sound, and the pain behind it makes my heart convulse. How can Max expect me to keep this secret from her when he knows that telling the truth will relieve all of her pain? After I place the coat on the edge of the dresser and turn around, she glances up, and my stomach burns with fear. I will lose her again. It’s a guarantee. She isn’t the type of woman who will accept me being a liar, and I have lied to her from the beginning. For now, the only thing that I can do is love her, but loving and then losing her for good will destroy me.
Stepping toward her again, I gently grab the sides of her face and whisper a kiss against her forehead. My breath stops at the shiver in her body, and I wrap arms around her small frame, pulling her closely.
“I was so scared,” my words are almost too much because it is the most truthful thing that I have shared with her. “When I came out of the bedroom and couldn’t find you in my apartment…” I trail off and then beg, “Don’t….Please don’t do that again.” With her cheek pressing against the center of my chest, she rubs slowly agreeing with my plea and I feel her tremble recede. God, I never want this embrace to end. However, we need to get a few things straight first, and from the looks of it, she hasn’t been eating properly. So, stepping back and releasing her, I point toward the plush oversize en suite and tell her, “The bathroom is behind you. I’ll wait in the living room while you change.” After staring at the bathroom, she turns back to me with so much sorrow that I almost forget my promise to Natalie. I hold the key to making it all go away, but there isn’t a damn thing that I can do about it now. In order to follow through, I decide to silence my words by tenderly pressing my mouth against hers without pushing her boundaries. I catch her off guard with this small kiss, so I mumble against them, “Get changed.” I leave her to do just that.
Inside the open living area, I instinctively walk toward the liquor cabinet. Then I decide that for tonight, I don’t want our time together to be influenced by anything other than what we’re already dealing with. Crossing the room, I stare out the floor to ceiling window, watching a small boat cruising up the river below trying to outrun more of the dark storm clouds moving in closer.
After ordering room service, I send a text message to Max, letting him know that Angel is with me and that I’ll speak with him in a few days. Before he can reply, I assure him that I will kick his ass when I see him. I understand that Jude’s death needs to be believable, but Christ he could have told me before letting me show up at the damn church.
Angel steps into the room, and I turn around, finding her in a yellow tee-shirt and form hugging white shorts, which reveal her sexy tattoo spiraling up her thigh. I suppress a groan, needing and wanting to trace every inch with my fingers.
Thrusting a hand into my hair to stop myself from doing it, I say, “I ordered some lunch. I hope that you’re hungry.”
Hesitantly stepping toward me, she stares right into my eyes, and I see her battling the pain, or fear, I can’t separate the two anymore where she is concerned. She whispers cautiously, “Blues.” Then she pinches her lips together, trying to rein in her emotions. “I want to thank you…” That makes my chest constrict and I think I’m going to be sick. I don’t want her thanking me. I do not deserve credit for something that I am involved with, which hurts her. The frustration tightens within every one of my muscles. My fists clamp tightly. “…for earlier.” She sits on the back of the sofa, looking away from me and continues stammering, “What happened, really…um, it was fucked up…and I needed to get away…”
“Where did you go?” Seeing that she is willing to speak about what happened, my question rushes out of my mouth before I even realize how pathetic I sound. She cuts her eyes at me, clearly unhappy about me asking. “Because, I looked for you at Decks’. He came home yesterday and said he hadn’t seen or talked with you.”
“I wasn’t ready to go back to Decks’ place so I rented a cheap motel. I just needed to deal with it all…on my own.”
What she didn’t say is that she walked away because she doesn’t trust me. I’ll never get in. She’ll never allow me inside her world, her head, or her heart. I move toward the kitchen, turning away from her, hoping to hide the crack of my tough façade. I feel enslaved to this ridiculous situation. But, then again, so is she. Understanding hits me hard. This yoke won’t just hold me, it could unite us. In some weird way, going through
this hell together, we might actually find the means to keep from losing what I think could be the best damn thing to ever happen to me.
There is a knock at the door. I turn around, and from my peripheral, I catch Angel staring at me. Room service arrives with our meal. After the courier pushes the cart into the dining area, I tip the young man and then glance over at her, unmoving and exactly where I left her a few minutes ago. “Come on. We’ll talk later,” I suggest, gesturing toward the table. Surprisingly, she doesn’t fight me. Instead, she follows quietly, and we sit in an awkward silence as we eat.
Once finished, I stand, clearing away our dishes and ask, “Would you like me to start the fire?”
“That’s fine,” she replies, her eyes scan the room nervously, doing everything she can to avoid making eye contact. I collect a blanket then we sit on the sofa directly facing the fireplace.
Initially, our conversation starts out lighthearted and playful laced with a bit of sexual innuendos. It changes drastically almost immediately and I am left with lying some more. Eventually, I change the subject hoping that we can push through her need to protect Decks allowing her to open up.
“What did Decks tell you about his recent business out of town?”
Avoiding eye contact she lies, “Nothing. He wouldn’t tell me anything about his business.”
“Angel, do you know what has caused his recent change in behavior?” She responds with a nod, and I inch closer and then pinch her chin tenderly so that I can gain her full attention. “I need to know.”
Swallowing audible, she confesses, “He’s using. He got really sick one night and told me that he was experimenting with Ryske.”
“That could be it.” I can’t believe that she told me. I open my mouth, nearly confessing that I love her because she is finally opening up, but I shut it quickly and the next words out of her mouth ruins everything.
“I think it may be making him rage too.”
“What do you mean? Has he hurt you?” My voice is almost only a growl.
“No, I don’t think he would hurt me. I think, maybe it is just irrational and misplaced jealousy more than anything.”
I don’t give a shit what his excuse is, I am only focused on how badly I am going to make Decks ass suffer when I beat the hell out of him. “How many times has he lost his temper with you?”
“Not many.”
“Angel, tell me how many.”
“It really isn’t that big of a deal, Blues.” She is getting upset now.
Trying to calm her, I reach out for her hand and soften my tone. “Let me decide that.”
“No. What happens between me and Decks is none of your business.”
‘Between me and Decks.’ ‘Between me and Decks.’ ‘BETWEEN ME AND DECKS!’
I stand, stomping over to the fireplace, like a brooding three year old. My rage boils violently thinking about him hurting her. But, it goes astronomical with her suggesting that they are more than just roommates. All this time, I thought that she was withholding sex from him and only sleeping with me. I’m fucking naïve as hell believing that Decks could keep his greedy paws off. I will kill him. With my bare hands, I will destroy him and leave him a bloody mess. What about her? If she really has been screwing him, that means Lourdes was right about Angel being a hustler. Impossible. She’s not like that…but what do I really know about her?
She isn’t your angel. She’s too strong to need you, too angry to want you, too good of a person to love a lying, worthless piece of shit like you.
“Fuck.” All of that is true, and yet, I don’t know how to not want her. I’ve tried, and failed miserably. Guess that makes me just as stubborn as her. And as if the whole world just shifted and split right down the middle, I finally get it. I turn and look at her. We are the same, but… Angel is my downfall, my ruin, which causes me to lose all ability of rational thinking. I don’t even care that I want her more than anything else in this damn world. She has undone me, providing that Jude’s observation about her effect on me is exactly right. She is my Kryptonite. Could I be hers?
I rush back over to her, drop down onto my knees and look into her eyes for a split second, because that is all it takes to see the truth. Kryptonite! It’s there, glowing explosively within her beautifully guarded grey eyes. She knows that I’m bad news, but she still wants me. Not wasting another second, I kiss the hell out of her. She inhales sharply, and it feels like she is breathing life back into me. She kisses me back and I growl deeply, feeling it ripping through a hard shell, which has kept me from pursuing her. I set her back against the couch and her hands are grabbing, reaching out for more, for me, while her body arches, calling out to mine.
God kissing her is amazing, and I want to savor every second of this along with every inch of her gorgeous body. My body is amped up with need, and my cock is straining with desire to plunge into her. Tonight, I will love her with my body and words. She is mine. “Let me love you,” I beg, pressing a tender kiss to the side of her neck, sliding my tongue up her throat, and nipping along her jaw line.
She stills, her breath rushing out in heavy gasps, and her eyes opening to find mine. “I…” She stammers, “Blues, I…” Enough. I can’t listen to another excuse about why we can’t be together. I’m done with waiting. I seize her sweet bottom lip, parting her mouth and then licking deeply. Her tongue responds immediately to my coercion, and I sink between her soft thighs. Fucking Heaven. My cock jumps and I rub the length of it into her warm center.
On a groan, I rip my mouth away and say, “Tell me to stop now, and I will, but I will hate it. I will fucking hate it because I need you so much, Angel, and I want to love you tonight.” Carefully, I pull her arms to rest above her head and stare into her lust-filled eyes. She wants me, but something is holding her back from giving into us. “Baby, let me love you,” I repeat, sounding like the most pathetic pussy-whipped bitch that I have ever heard. But I mean every damn last bit of it.
Breathlessly, she says, “Yes, Blues, love me.” Strong emotions flow through her words and mix with an even stronger passion coursing from her grey eyes.
I carry her to the bedroom, placing her onto the bed. Dear God, she is so unbelievably gorgeous. The tip of her pink tongue slips out, licking her lips, inviting me to sample more. I bend over, tasting the juiciness while my hands slip under her shirt, and Angel moans.
Her. This woman is all that I want and need.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Breathing heavily, I stare up at the ceiling with one arm draping over my forehead, the other tucked under Angel’s back, still holding her close against me. “Damn, that…”
“Yeah,” she breathes. I turn my head, looking at the beauty, who just gave me the best fuck of my life for the third time. She took control again, and it was amazing. The way she keeps facing away every time tells me that there is something behind her need to control our positions. She’s damn good at it, and I love the creativity. However, I think that not looking me in the eyes while we have sex allows her to disconnect. And I hate that. I want a stronger connection between us. More than mind-blowing sex, I want it all with Angel.
Rising from the bed, I stroll into the bathroom, drop the condom in the trash and wash my hands. I glance over my shoulder, catching her staring at me. “See something you like?”
She smiles. “What’s not to like?” Then she twirls her finger.
I smile and then turn around to give her the front view. “Better?”
“I’m not sure,” she says, rising up to rest on her elbows, a crinkle forming between her eyebrows. I arch one of mine, glancing down to see what could have her confused. “I think I need to see the other side again.” I meet her darkening eyes. “You know? So I can decide which one I like best.”
Chuckle, I step into the doorway and grip the doorframe above my head. “There’s no competition. It’s all yours.” A beautiful pink flushes her cheeks. Happy with my success at making her blush, I turn back into the bathroom and begin running a ba
th. Then I return to the bed, grab her up in my arms and carry her back, placing her down beside the tub. “Join me?” She bites her lip, and I bend down capturing it between my lips. “You’re so damn sexy.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she says, turning away to run a hand under the water.
“Warm enough?” I ask, pulling two towels out and placing them onto the counter.
“Just right.” She dumps a gallon of bath foam in.
Chuckling, I climb into the bubbly waters and then offer my hand out to her, wanting to hold her. She accepts my gesture, slipping under the water too, but decides to face me. “What’s wrong with these?” I hold out my arms.
“I think that I’ll stay over here.” She holds up her plaster covered arm. “Don’t want to get my cast wet.” Her grey eyes hold mine, and I nod. For a few minutes, we sit silently, listening to the water flowing out of the tap just staring at each other. The dimmed lighting overhead, gives off a warm glow in the room. Her cheeks, chest and neck are still colored from our love making.
“Are you hungry? We could go out.” She shakes her head, so I suggest, “Room service?” She shrugs, glancing toward the door, like she’s thinking of fleeing. “We’re going to need sustenance.”
Her heated gaze meets mine, and after a long pause, she breathlessly replies, “Then, we definitely need to order in.” Good answer. Smiling, I nod, and she worries her bottom lip. It seems that she does that more when she’s nervous. I hate her feeling that way around me. She quickly adds, “I mean, if you’re hungry, you should eat. I am still kind of full from lunch.”
“Room service, it is,” I confirm. Her gaze moves toward the doorway for a second time, and once more, she chews on her bottom lip. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind?”
